


anyone who knows what love is (will understand)

by poeticandvaguelysweet



Category: Jurassic Park - All Media Types, Jurassic World Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, another shameless kidfic, except this one is Fallen Kingdom era!, there's smut as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticandvaguelysweet/pseuds/poeticandvaguelysweet
Summary: She had a three-year plan, regardless of if he was still with her or not.The dinosaurs on the island need their help again but Owen's sworn to himself he wouldn't get involved with Claire and her daughter. Too bad he has a weak spot for that woman and the idea of their shared little girl.*spoilers for Fallen Kingdom plot*





	anyone who knows what love is (will understand)

**Author's Note:**

> please read
> 
> this fic contains spoilers for Fallen Kingdom. I’m literally about to leave to go see the movie myself (doesn’t come out in the US for another few days) but got most of my information from the Junior Novelisation. My intention was not to copy or recreate but just to follow the flow. I have deviated in a few parts. 
> 
> If you are cautious just save this until after you’ve seen the movie. 
> 
> I’ve been working on this fic since the first trailer was dropped and yes no one asked for it but also I don’t care. It’s huge. This is part one. Who knows if I’ll even write part two. It took me what? 7 months? to get this down. I really hope you enjoy it! It’s likely still a mess. I am a princess, but not one of perfection so y’all have to live with that. 
> 
> s/o to @dwayne-cirocjohnson and @all--the--dancers for reading through this at various stages. they encouraged me. 
> 
> also, I wanna acknowledge everyone I’ve met over the last three years in this fandom. Those who remained, those who left and those who came back. I can’t actually fathom that it’s been three years. We made it. 
> 
> oh and this connects to #208 + #221 in Despite the Odds.

 

 

Karen Mitchell had walked the wrong path a few times in her life. She spent four years in college working on a degree in graphic design only to end up a temp. She married Scott Mitchell. She let Claire drift out into the void of zero communication. She had a hand in getting her sister pregnant. That one was messy, the lines blurring at the edges of blame and influence. It wasn’t like she held Claire down, but she had been one to set up the ‘blind date’ of sorts that saw her sister and Owen together again for a brief moment. Claire had been mute on the subject, but the image of life in her sister’s belly sealed the deal on what happened that night.

‘You don’t have to hold my hand through this, you know.’ Claire’s tone was dry as the desert, still bitter and annoyed. There was a resentment there. Nothing accused Karen of having a part in this but Claire still detested her sister's adamant approval towards the mystery man she had told Claire to meet. The eldest only rolled her eyes, sitting in a chair beside her as she kept telling herself the other was only being childish. She was going to sit there, she was going to hold Claire’s hand and Claire was damn well going to deal with it. ‘I’m serious, Karen, go home. I’m not angry with you anymore.’ The sound of her voice said otherwise but Karen was willing to ignore it. Maybe there was a disadvantage to living so close together again.

She really shouldn’t have tried to fix things between Claire and the one good man she had dated in all thirty-four-years of her life. Karen could admit that she was wrong. It was a dumb move and if the tables had been turned she would never have forgiven Claire for meddling with her relationships. But, of course, the tables would never turn. Claire wasn’t the kind to meddle and Owen had really been  _one-of-a-kind_  in her life.

Karen thought she was on to something when Claire didn’t come home that night. She had potentially hit the jackpot in reigniting their romantic flame and bringing the two of them back together. Already, Karen was preparing her speech for their wedding night and what version of events she would tell their children one day. When Claire came through the door mid-morning with bags under her eyes and teary expression, she knew it was no longer the case.

‘And there’s your baby.’ Claire’s doctor had been ignoring their bickering, smiling flatly through the whole thing while she did her job, Claire captive on the table. They both stopped bickering and internally blaming themselves as Claire’s breath was stolen right from her lungs. Karen intertwined her fingers with Claire’s, receiving a squeeze from the youngest as her eyes remained glued to the monitor. ‘Given the information provided, I’d say you’re on track for early July.’ Claire nodded, willing herself not to cry despite her vision blurring. ‘Have you made any decisions yet?’ Karen gave her hand a squeeze again, using her other to wipe at the tears on her cheeks. Claire was going to come crashing down to reality any second now.

‘I’m going to keep it.’ She nodded at the doctor, offering the other woman a small smile as she avoided Karen altogether, knowing her sister would be a blubbering mess the second she looked over. She tried to catch her breath, well aware she wasn’t breathing properly as her hand relaxed the death grip on Karen’s hand.

[…]

‘You still have options, Claire.’ Karen told her, reading the panic that radiated off her sister. They had all been there once in their lives; new mothers, uncertain of the path ahead. Most had a partner in that, someone to reassure their fears and calm all worries. Claire was alone and although that had proven useful to the youngest Dearing (although arguably not) Karen knew she couldn’t do this one solo. Her sister would snap under the pressure. Claire was always destined to turn running from motherhood, they had all accepted that one a long time ago. It was how their father broke her. ’There’s always another path.’

Claire shook her head, clearing her throat as she took a deep breath. ‘I want to do this.’ She nodded to herself, despite the overwhelmed tears on her cheeks. ‘It was my plan,’ she told her sister quietly unable to meet Karen’s eye. ‘Three years.’ Her fingers flicked at the envelope in her lap, the one that held the sonogram of the tiny spark of life nestled inside of her. It had only been two and a half but at her age, Claire felt it was close enough. The opportunity wouldn’t come knocking again.

Karen hummed. ‘I mean, when you decided on that plan you weren’t …’ alone. Two years ago she and Owen were in the honeymoon phase. Nothing could touch them, they were indestructible and shuttling right towards the stars. She never thought that bubble would burst. ‘It can be hard to juggle home and work when it’s just you, Claire-Bear. Are you ready for the preservation project to take a backseat?’ She wasn’t trying to talk her sister out of it. Karen wanted Claire to make the best and right decision for herself, for her work and for her child.

It wasn’t her intention to go out and get pregnant — not with Owen … not when they weren’t together anymore. She regretted every second of it but not until he had dropped her back to her car the morning after.  

Her three-year plan was decided upon six-months into their relationship. It was premature, but with the wake of Jurassic World behind them, Claire was starting to set her priorities straight. She would have liked to be a mother, would have liked to at least  _think_  about it. She wasn’t getting any younger and from what she knew, Owen had fantastic qualities that would blend well with her own in a child.

Claire had time, she had options, this wasn’t just a one-way street that lead to bitter regret. Karen desperately needed her sister to understand that. She would never forgive herself if Claire followed through with this only to push her child aside or to later regret not giving her work more time since having her baby. She was going to struggle for balance no doubt about it and it was going to start sooner than Claire thought.

‘I just don’t want to look back and realise I missed an opportunity.’ She was thirty-four-years-old, the opportunity was running for the hills. Claire wasn’t willing to risk the wait. She wouldn’t be able to find a man now, someone she could trust enough to let into her life for the rest of her day. Owen didn’t have to know. Owen wouldn’t want to know. And, even then, she knew he would make things amicable. Things had been rocky between them, continued to be, but he would try — just as she would — to make it work for  _their_ kid. She knew who he was. Knew what made him tick, understood the underlying parts of his personality that only showed themselves with deep intimacy. He was a good person. The right kind of man to be a father, to share genetic traits with.

Karen hummed, switching the key in the ignition as Claire’s car purred to life. ‘Are you going to tell Owen?’ She wanted her sister to go home. Claire was sick of Karen reading her thoughts and prying into her problems. There wasn’t enough space in there for both of them.

Claire shrugged.

‘I think you should.’ Karen offered, blatant honesty. ‘The boys won’t be able to keep this quiet once they find out. They’ll tell him.’

‘They can tell him.’

Karen scoffed, ‘You can’t do that, Claire’. She sighed, breath catching in her throat as they pulled out of the carpark and broke onto the main road. ‘I mean, if you’re deciding to keep this baby, you should tell him. I think you’ll  _need_  to tell him.’ Hell, Karen would drag her sister out there kicking and screaming just for Claire to tell him. He couldn’t not know. He deserved that much.

‘He doesn’t want to speak to me.’ Karen wanted to ask what evidence Claire had on that front. The Owen she knew would bend over backwards for her sister. Sure, what happened over Thanksgiving was less than admirable but it had its complications and they were both reasonable adults. He was better than that. Karen knew guilt was eating him up inside.

‘Tough shit,’ Karen was abrupt. ‘He will  _want_  to know about this. You can’t pull the ‘ _he doesn’t want to speak to me_ ’ card. It doesn’t work in the long run.’ He would only come to her and ask why she felt he wouldn’t want to know, why she wanted to keep him out of  _his_  kids’ life. There was already a gaping trench between them, this would only make things worse. Because, despite her better judgement, Karen knew Owen would come knocking one day. Or, in the least, she didn’t want her sister visiting for Christmas in a few years, five-year-old accompanying them on a last minute grocery shop only to bump into Owen. He would know. Immediately. Nothing would mend that betrayal.

Claire nodded, quiet, the thumbs of both hands flicking at the edges of her envelope. She didn’t answer Karen, only let the silence overtake them.

‘I’m here for you, Claire-Bear. No matter what, but you need to know that I don’t think it’s right to keep this from him. Tell him when you’re ready but don’t leave it too long.’

[…]

‘Aunt Claire is having a baby.’ Gray was sitting beside him, a small frown on his face. Owen knew something was coming, rising up with the swell of a wave as they sat by the quiet lake. At fifteen, Gray Mitchell was chatty. He had been for as long as Owen had known him, several years of yapping the ear off anyone who was willing to sit and listen. Mostly, he scared off the fish.

Trying to push through the dread in his heart, Owen grunted. It was no use, the feeling slid heavy and wet into the pits of his stomach. This was bound to happen. She was due to get up and move on from him.

‘She doesn’t have a boyfriend.’ Gray told him. ‘I asked her.’ He straightened his shoulders, proud of himself for being blunt and straight to the point. Gray often had no tact, asking outright the first question at the forefront of his mind. ‘She seems sad.’ The boy hummed.

‘She doesn’t want it?’ Owen asked, curious. He knew Claire had changed her tune on children.  _They_  had talked about it briefly, the thought so far ahead of them that it was easy to daydream and play. He would have liked to have had a baby with Claire, to sit by and watch her flourish into motherhood. They, however, were not a perfect match and their relationship crumbled before her dreamy plan could come anywhere near fruition.

Gray shrugged, ‘Nah. She seems happy about the baby. Mom said she was a little nervous, but that having a baby is pretty scary and that Aunt Claire’s feelings are normal. She said it was a good thing we moved to California. Now we’re close to Aunt Claire for when the baby is born.’

When Karen made the move from Wisconsin to California a few weeks before her divorce was finalised the boys were pleased to live and breathe so close to warm weather. He and Claire were still together then, introducing her nephews — their nephews — to the sunshine state with open arms and hours of activities. It had been easier then when the boys were new to San Fransisco and he could hijack their weekends with trips to Alcatraz and the Muir Woods. He even took them camping out in the heights of Yosemite for a whole three-day weekend purely because the time allowed for the drive.  

Gray was humming beside him, forgetful on the part about fishing with Owen that included silence. He had a no talking rule but both the boys knew if anything was bothering them that Owen was open to comfort their worries. ‘Aunt Claire bought a new house. She moved in last week. It’s really nice.’ The boy was grinning, sitting on the edge of his seat, hands twitching on the fishing rod he was supposed to be holding steady.

He hadn’t expected her to stay. The apartment they shared was small, temporary, a waiting place between their lives. Even he had to escape it, suffocating between the walls and cramped city life. He wasn’t a city boy. Claire thrived but Owen withered without fresh light.

‘Hey, buddy?’ Owen asked, catching the boy’s attention. ‘Why don’t we put a ban on topics that involve Aunt Claire?’ He hated to do that to the kid but Owen wasn’t sure he could continue to live with weekly updates on the woman he was still angrily pining for. ‘Unless you think she’s in trouble, okay? He needed Gray to know he still cared but it was hurting him to hear about it. The boys were usually good. Tight-lipped on all things Claire unsure if they could share or if they should.

Gray nodded glumly, an apology quiet on his lips as Owen tried not to feel bad for the boy.

[…]

Owen barely used his phone. The only reason it was charged was because the boys occasionally called before popping over to his piece of property out near Pleasant Hill. Karen seldom called, more often than not looking for her sons or wondering if Owen could speak to them regarding a matter that occurred at school. The last time she called it had been the last time he saw Claire. Owen didn’t answer. He knew she was ready to rip him a new one. Owen deserved it. He still felt guilty, couldn’t quite look Karen in the eye when he crossed her path.

When the phone rang on a Tuesday at 10am Owen was a little surprised to see Karen’s name. ‘Everything okay?’ He answered without a  _hello_  ready to jump into his truck and be where she needed.

On the other end, he could hear heavy breathing, throat shaking with unplaced nerves. ’It’s Claire. Don’t hang up.’ Her words were rushed, so fast Owen almost missed them. He could pick up her voice anywhere — often felt he could hear her in the supermarket or at the hardware. He knew who it was regardless of the words said. Owen didn’t know how to respond or what to say. He paused, a million lines running through his head. ‘I need to talk to you.’ She was quiet, reserved, somewhat upset. His heart was racing from the thrill of her voice and panic that things were not safe and sound in Claire Dearing’s world.

‘Fire away.’ Owen managed to tell her, irritation the only sound he could get through his voice without shaking.

Owen could hear her shake her head on the other end, her hair ruffling in the speaker. ‘In person. I’ll come to you.’ When he hummed she asked for a location, putting the control in Owen’s hands. She wanted this done on his turf and in his comfort zone.

Their set location was a local diner Owen frequented, always busy but not enough that they wouldn’t have their privacy. She was already there when he arrived, a finished plate sitting in front of her. She grinned, the same old smile she used to flash him with excitement, happy to see him again after a few hours apart. The kind of smile that meant he was the only person she was looking for and now with his presence she was whole. There had been days where Owen would come home to that smile, or meet her out for dinner. It felt odd seeing it now. Her lips twitched, nerves showing through as she raised her hand to flag him down and pulled herself out of the booth. She hugged him with a touch that was barely there, trying to play amicable in a way that was only making him unsettled.

‘Was I late?’ He asked, gesturing towards the plate and empty glass.

Claire shook her head, ‘No, I was early’. A nervous tick of hers.

‘We could have eaten together.’ He offered, unsure of if it was too much or not. He picked the diner but hadn’t expected her to order anything beyond a cup of coffee.

With each second that passed them Owen felt more relaxed. The last time he saw Claire it was messy, he had worried this would have had the same effect. She only nodded softly, still shy and cautious with him when he offered ordering a late breakfast. Claire had already eaten but claimed she could order again, happy for the ease in their moment and unwilling to break it.

‘What’d you need to talk about?’ He asked when their food arrived, previously filling the time with small talk neither of them were really willing to give up. She didn’t want to talk about the Dinosaur Protection Group and he didn’t want to talk about the house he had finally started building. They filled the space with Zach and Gray recounting weekends and after school moments they had shared with the boys individually and how much Claire was still loving having her sister so close, he even asked after her father.

Owen asked his question as he absentmindedly moved two pieces of bacon from his plate to hers as they always used to do whenever they found themselves eating breakfast out. Claire stopped, fork hovering over her plate as she stared at the small offering knowing he hadn’t even realised he’d done it. Her stomach rolled, nerves returning with heavy force as she considered getting up and walking out the door.

‘I’m pregnant.’ She told him abruptly, silence engulfing them as Owen pushed his food around his plate not engaged until the words hit his ears.

He barely lifted his head. ‘I know.’ Owen didn’t think he could look at her. He didn’t understand why she had to do this to him. Why did she have to pull him from his life to make him pretend to be happy for her.

Claire was silent as her breathing grew heavy and panicked with each inhale.

It clunked in the back of his head like a penny falling into a well. His heart sunk into his stomach, sliding down his spine as he felt his gut roll, no longer hungry for the full plate of food he ordered. He pushed it away from him, palms flat against the edge of the china before his elbows hit the top of the table, burying his head in his hands.

‘I’m a fucking idiot.’ He pushed a breath past his lips, eyes covered with fingers pressed into his sockets. Owen took a minute, trying to breathe as his head swam and his body sunk. Collecting himself he dragged his hands down his face only to open his eyes to a teary eyed Claire, her cheeks red as they always did when she was upset. She nodded slowly, confirming his thoughts as her bottom lip rolled and started to shake.

The baby was his.

‘Owen.’ She blubbered, mouth opening to a small cry as a tear slipped down her cheek. He shook his head, eyes focused on a spot behind her not sure if he could look at her. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ She dropped her fork to her plate, the clatter making him jump as her hands pooled in her lap.

‘Gray said you were keeping it.’ He knew better than to trust the word of a fifteen year old but it was the only source of information he had.

She nodded. ‘It was our plan.’

‘Your plan.’ He corrected, flinching at the tone of his voice. He had a part in it but ultimately it was Claire. Three years. They made it to two. This hardly qualified. ‘I can’t — I can’t do this with you, Claire.’ He told her honestly. It wasn’t that Owen didn’t want a baby — he was still unsure on that front — but they had destroyed each other, lit a wick at both ends and exploded in a terrible mess. He couldn’t go back to the city, couldn’t continue to live the way she lived and there was no way Claire was giving up her lifestyle for him.

His eyes were burning and he was trying not to think about it. Willing himself not to cry like she was, struggling to control her emotions. This wasn’t the Claire he was used to and that alone scared him.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked, worried, terrified. Owen wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold on until she felt safe and reassured. He couldn’t do that. He would never let her go and that wasn’t what they needed. Claire was strong, made of fire and built to tackle so much single handedly. If anything, she could do the same with this. He settled with reaching for one of her hands, his two larger ones crowding it as Owen’s fingers locked with hers.

Claire shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ Her voice shook. ‘I don’t know what I expected.’ Claire wiped at her cheek. ‘I was ready to do this alone I just …’ didn’t expect it to feel the way it did. She ignored the way his fingers shook against hers, heart and soul concerned.

He really did want to console her but everything that he wanted to say felt inappropriate and beyond rude. She could do this. He knew she could. He didn’t have the strength to try their lives again, at full or half capacity.

Owen stayed. Silence strangling them as Claire sniffled over her food and he tried to force himself to eat. He couldn’t find the will to leave her sitting there despite the anger that was climbing up his spine.

‘It’s been a few months since Thanksgiving.’

Claire nodded. ‘It’s ah early days,’ She stuttered unable to keep her voice level. ‘Twelve weeks actually. I only found out a few weeks ago, had to be sure and all that.’ Claire stared out of the window, feeling the need to explain why she hadn’t told him sooner. ‘I, ah, I knew you wouldn’t want to do this.’ She shrugged, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience.

‘Claire,’ He stared, heart in his throat. ‘If things were different. If we were still together I’d be thrilled — Hell, I’m happy for you. But us, together, it’s not smart in any form.’ He knew she would hear and respect that he was weak. If she pushed him hard enough he’d come crawling back they both knew it.

Owen had a messy childhood. Claire knew the story, but thought if he knew he was going to be a father that he would stop at nothing to prevent his past from repeating itself. She also knew that he might not consider himself strong enough. Claire just hadn’t anticipated the latter to win out against the former.

She nodded shyly accepting his terms. ‘I guess you don’t want to see the sonogram picture then.’ Claire’s laugh was quiet, bashful, one hand in her lap undoubtedly guarding the small life inside of her.

Owen shook his head, slightly mournful. ‘You’re going to be a great mom, Claire.’

[…]

Owen Grady was five-years-old when Child Protective Services had removed him from his mother’s care. She had yelled for him to hide, red and blue flashing lights seeping into the walls of the living room not for the first time as he tucked himself away in the linen cupboard and sat quietly, arm braced around his legs ready for it to be over.

Unfortunately for Lynn Grady the police presence that evening were looking for her son and not the drugs she had stashed in every available crevice of her ailing home. They found those too, or so his grandmother had told him a few years later. His mother was sent to a rehabilitation centre that ended up being a waste of everyone’s time. Lynn screamed blue murder when Owen took the hand of a kind woman who had asked if he wanted to visit his nanny and pop. Owen, didn’t even know he had a nanny and pop at the time, curiosity made him nod as he was led to a car, his mother restrained behind him.

Grace and Henry Grady were warm and loving. His grandmother, GiGi, cradled him all night and well into the morning when he was first handed over to her. He could still remember the rock of the porch swing, the humidity of the Missouri summer and the tight grip of her hold on him. She cried, he could remember that, being confused by her upset when the kind lady had told him they were looking forward to meeting little Owen.

His grandfather watched with disappointed eyes, none of it directed at the skinny little boy with tangles in his hair and the promise of lice. He had been mad at himself. Mad that he let his daughter slip away into this mess and destroy her son in the way she had. Henry knew he should have intervened earlier but didn’t know how without damaging every last shred of his already fragile relationship with his daughter.

Owen was eight the first time his grandparents let him see his mother again. He had moved from skinny child to chubby boy, confident and well liked at school. She came to the house, played nice in a sundress and sandals, her hair washed and pulled into a soft ponytail. He almost didn’t recognise her, three years pulling at his memory as she smiled at him with open arms, a man standing a few feet behind her. He couldn’t remember much about those days other than feeling the tension in the room as his grandparents let their daughter back into their home followed by her company; Owen’s father.

Lynn was nineteen when she met the man who impregnated her, fresh out of high school and working her way through college. She was one of those  _well-rounded_  girls with high prospects and no interest in scalping her parents for their money. Lynn Grady wanted to make her own way. An only child she achieved every aspiration Henry and Grace ever dreamed of. They were shocked when she told them she was pregnant but not unsupportive. They were willing to help their daughter by any means possible and they did. They got her a bigger apartment, supplied her with the money she needed while not working, and kept her fed. They showered their soon to be grandchild in gifts before he was even born, furniture, toys and clothing already filling his designated nursery.

Owen was six-months-old when she stopped coming to visit. Lynn dropped out of school, quit her job, moved and became virtually unreachable. She never opened up about what it was first, drugs or alcohol but her parents were aware that both were involved and no one was too sure on who introduced her to it. Nevertheless, Jack Myers was always around.

As a grown man, Owen was never really sure if Myers was his father or not. His mother certainly had never confirmed or denied any speculation. Owen reached a point where he no longer cared to know. His opinion of the man so little he preferred to tell himself it wasn’t true. In Owen's mind, his father left before he was born and never came back. It would have been easier that way. Things would have been different had his mother never met him.

Lynn managed to convince her parents that she was stable enough to have regular visitation with her son. It eventually turned into Owen sleeping over in her new home for a night or two, graduating to a whole week after a year of good behaviour. She always picked him up and dropped him off, never letting her parents come to the house. It should have been their fist warning sign, that she was withholding now as she had been when her baby was born.  What he could remember of those visits wasn’t entirely pleasant. His mother wasn’t on the straight and narrow but Owen  _knew_  if he said something he wouldn’t be allowed to see her anymore. He could tell she needed it. Said, she couldn’t live without him. He kept his mouth shut so her happiness could continue. He could remember thinking as a boy, that if his mother was truely happy with his presence in her home that maybe she wouldn’t need the bad things she said she got rid of. Granddad said liquor was bad, invented for the broken man who only wanted to make his life harder. Lynn said Owen made her happy but she kept drinking. Said he made her whole but she broken.

Jack and Lynn fought. Like wild cats they screamed and screeched, breaking bottles and hitting walls as Owen tried to sleep, counting down the days until he was back with his granddad and GiGi. Jack liked to hit him, smack Owen around the back of his head, pinch his arm and pull him into a headlock. He hated that man with the kind of passion only a fed up little boy could possess. His fingers were curled into fists as rage swirled within him, mind begging that he do something, that he snap if only Jack would push him once more. He never fought back, saw what happened when his mother did. Jack came and went, wandering in and out of their lives whenever he wanted, usually to steal Lynn’s cash and whatever product he could find in the house. They had days where the man was absent and Owen actually managed to enjoy some time with his mother. She was odd, made him uncomfortable on the best of days but all he could hear was her voice telling him she loved him.

He was nine when he watched her bleed out on the floor of her tiny bathroom, gritting her teeth in pain as her legs couldn’t manage to lift her from the tiles. Owen hadn’t seen Jack on his last few visits and knew the man couldn’t have inflicted this. His mother was fine the day before. He knew blood was bad and meant that help was needed but Lynn refused to let her son reach for the phone not even to call his grandparents. Instead, when the worst of the pain had passed, he looked as his mother showed him a red bundle of tissue sitting in the palm of her hands. It took him years to understand what a miscarriage was and potentially why it had happened.

Owen was eleven when Kitty Grady was born. His grandparents soon after changed it to Katherine but Owen still called his sister Kit at every opportunity. She was born in his mother’s apartment, with nothing but her brother there to catch her. It was Owen who called 911, finally breaking on his silence of his mother’s guardianship.

Kit was born with a drug addiction. His mother hadn’t been clean for years and continued to use while she was pregnant. Both Owen and Kit were relinquished from her care once again and handed back to the full time custody of his grandparents, once his sister was well enough to come home from the hospital.

He could remember those stark white walls, the beep of machines and noise of chatter over the PA. Every second Kit was locked in there, he hated. Owen just wanted his sister to come home. It was the first time he fully acknowledged his protective instincts. Everything was about Kit from the second he met her and Owen would stop at nothing to ensure she was the happiest, safest and healthiest she could be. Anything his sister needed from that day forward he would get for her. Only problem was, for a while he was just a boy incapable of assisting in his sister’s medical treatment. She lived with no promise of what damage could relay itself in the future. Her lungs were weak, her heart likely to give way.

He was there every time she couldn’t catch her breath. Owen personally ensured Kit did as well as she possibly could on every test she had at school. He was the first she called when she felt her heart was breaking over misguided preteen love and the only person she trusted to fill her with reassurance. Nothing was going to break Kit Grady not when she had her brother.

She was weak hearted physically and mentally. Too trusting with people in her life that often saw his sister hurt. But, after everything Owen couldn’t see that as a bad thing. She trusted his judgement and always knew he would help to see her through.

He hated leaving her behind when he joined the NAVY and struggled with the distance between Missouri and Costa Rica but it was Kit who pushed him to do it. Kit who at eight-years-old first told her big brother that he couldn’t always sit around and look after her. He had to go be a  _man_  and carve out a life for himself.

They never missed a phone call and he always used his leave the second he got it go back home to Missouri and swing his sister around in the grass outside of his grandparents house.

Owen didn’t know if it was a mix of Lynn Grady and Jack Myers that had him running as far from Claire as he possibly could. He was struggling to pinpoint the exact starting point of his full body ache and the reason it began. She told him she was pregnant, eyes full of hope while his heart sank into the pits of his stomach.

He couldn’t do to her what Jack did to Lynn, sliding in and out of her life whenever it pleased him. They weren’t together anymore and their version of co-parenting would revolve around the back and forth.

His morals didn’t aline with hers, not in regards to the de-extinct creatures they abandoned on Isla Nublar. She wanted to save them, he couldn’t care less. But, he did care about having her constantly bring it up. Owen was certain that he had enough of that. He wanted to bang his head against a wall every time he heard mention of a dinosaur, the thought of his life spent wasted training those raptors that now lay to waste.

‘ _I know something’s happened between you and Claire._ ’ He called Kit, unable to sit and listen to his own thoughts as his mind ran circles of Claire with a baby around his head, Owen disappointing them in every scenario. He came from reckless people. Claire was better off alone. Owen grunted in response to his sisters comment. ‘ _I’m not a dumb-dumb, Owen. You guys stopped visiting. I haven’t heard from her in ages. You don’t call Granddad or GiGi anymore and they’re not stupid neither. We’re worried about you._ ’

This was why he didn’t get involved with other people. Why he never brought anyone home.

He wondered how disappointed they would be if they could see him now, staring down the neck of a bottle thinking it his only way out. He just wanted to stop his thoughts, numb them until he could think straight.

Briefly, he considered his grandfather’s disappointment. Henry barred all alcohol from the house when Owen was six, deciding he couldn’t hate on his daughter for drinking the stuff if he was using it too. Owen grew up thinking that liquor was for weak men and women, something that shouldn’t be touched. At age seventeen, when his friend Billy handed him a cup at some jock’s house party Owen drank it without question. Not realising what it was until he had downed nearly half of it. He spent the rest of the night vomiting the beer he had swallowed into the grass like the rest of the drunks except Owen was nowhere near intoxicated. It was guilt that bore into him. How disappointed his grandfather would be if he knew. It was the same friend who got Owen drunk a few months later, peer pressuring his friend into joying the rest of the drinking teens and that no one would find out or blab to Henry Grady.

No one needed to. His grandfather could smell it on him the second he came home and proceeded to lecture the boy and ground him until the message sunk in. Alcohol was not for Owen Grady’s consumption, nor Kit’s for that matter.

With every swallow, Owen heard that speech over and over again, his grandfather standing above him as seventeen-year-old Owen sat on the living room sofa, hungover and not entirely sure he  _wasn’t_  going to vomit on his grandmother’s rug. It slowly started to disappear with every bottle he finished until Owen drowned out the man’s voice altogether, the rest of his problems fading with it.

[…]

He didn’t call her. Not even when he dreamt of Claire and their baby crying out of his help, caught in the cage of a terrible beast. He had woken in a sweat on the worst of nights, hands shaking, breathing rapid, desperate to reach out and check she was okay. When he picked up his phone, light blinding him in the dark of his bedroom Owen found that he had missed a call from Karen. He stared at it, unsure if he should press on her name and return the call. Deliberating his options, the screen was still bleaching his eyes when it changed, incoming call taking over the device.  _Karen_.

‘’llo.’ He answered, voice groggy and disorientated.

‘ _Owen, hey, sorry to wake you.’_ Karen was apologetic, trying to keep her voice down despite his ears picking up on commotion behind her. He grunted, hand scrubbing over his face as he turned his eyes towards the alarm clock beside his bed. 3:07am. His heart jumped. Why was she calling that early? ‘ _Claire’s in labour.’_ He felt his throat dry as his heart rate stopped all together.

The planet ceased movement, coming to a halt as his ears attuned themselves to the sound filling in around Karen’s voice. She was in the room with Claire, wherever they were and there she was, the woman he left, crying out his name like her life depended on it.

‘I can’t.’ He told her, throat still thick, fear pounding in his chest. He could hear the hospital in the background, the noise and rhythm, the cry of Claire’s voice that took him right back to age eleven, sitting on the living room floor helping deliver his sister with no prior experience.

He couldn’t.

‘ _She just wants to talk to you.’_ He shook his head, world starting to spin. ‘ _Please, Owen, she won’t calm down.’_

 _‘_ I can’t.’ He told her again, the only sounds able to split from his throat as he heard Claire cry his name a second time. It was too much. He chose not to be there. Chose not to support her. He couldn’t come in and out of her life when asked for. He didn’t have the strength.

Owen hung up, his phone sliding from his hand and dropping to the mattress. Karen rang a second time, phone buzzing in the sheets behind his hip. His heart was hammering, hands seized as his skin grew clammy. He lay there, listening to his phone ring over and over with no end in sight. He could hear the urge in Karen’s voice, the importance for him to answer, but Owen couldn’t bring himself to do it.

When it stopped ringing the room felt suffocating, silence rattling in his ears as he heard Claire scream his name on repeat, his stomach tightening into thick knots.

Owen couldn’t sleep despite the late hour. Instead, he crawled from his bed, body heavy and weary as he found an unopened bottle of whiskey and started to force it down his throat. When his phone rang again, an hour or so later, he ignored it. Unable to see the numbers on the clock let alone the name on the screen. His phone fell silent, room returning to darkness as the sun began to kiss the edges of the Earth. The screen lit up, flashing with a message. A voicemail he had to hear despite his drunken state.

_‘She had the baby. They’re both a bit shaky but things are looking up. I personally don’t think you deserve to know right now. But, Claire wanted me to call again.’_

He didn’t call Karen back. Some part of Owen had decided his nightmare and the birth of his child as a premonition to stay away. Not to mention the shake in his fingers from the liquor he had steadily consumed across the long night.

Claire sent him a birth announcement the old-fashioned way a week later, knowing he would appreciate a thick envelope more than an email or a text. He didn’t open it. Didn’t even know what it was until he asked Gray why Claire had sent him something.

‘She sent one to everyone.’ The boy shrugged. Owen suddenly felt less special, his gut sinking at the stupidity he felt for obsessing over her cursive writing out his name and address. Gray was doing well keeping the baby and Claire out of their conversations. Owen wasn’t doing so well in asking here and there that they were both okay.

He didn’t ask the boy much. That would be too easy. It was the one rule Owen put in place to stop himself from caving in. He couldn’t ask Gray for the answers to questions Owen knew he wasn’t ready to hear. It would have been easier to open the envelope that sat on his coffee table and process in his own time. He knew Claire. He knew how organised she was, his envelope would contain everything. A name, gender, pictures and an invitation to come  _home_  the second his heart healed.

The thing was, Owen Michael Grady  _very much_  wanted to be a part of his child’s life. He wanted to be there for every single second of the miracle that was this accidental life. He wanted to see the baby born, feel their first kick, hold the weight of his child in his arms. He wanted to look into blue eyes as brilliant as Claire’s and fall in love all over again. He wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t do it. The nightmares were too much and the alcohol was only exacerbating the issue. Owen knew he wasn’t helping himself, that this wasn’t the way to go but he couldn’t find the motivation to do the right thing. There was too much weighted on him, his childhood and his days in the navy as well as their last fateful days at Jurassic World. He just wanted to escape it all.

He moved to San Francisco for her. He waited for her to quit her job as Masrani Global’s scape goat. They had put so much blame on her shoulders, Owen was convinced it wasn’t healthy but Claire wasn’t ready to let it go. She promised that she was going to throw in the towel and that little piece of property he was pining over in Pleasant Hill would be theirs. They couldn’t leave California not once Karen moved out there to be close to her sister. Owen could settle, a property here and there ripe for the taking. Claire swore she was over big business, and done with corporations. She wanted to use her Stanford training to help those who weren’t too sure about their business ventures. She wanted to do  _good,_ wanted to move away from the devastation that was Jurassic World and carry on with a peaceful life with Owen by her side.

Owen was already at his wits end when he found out about the Dinosaur Protection Group headlined by Claire. She had been keeping it from him. He was miserable. The man was pinning for trees and living on the edge of a forestry in the quiet where everything was longer than thirty minutes away.

That had been the dream, one decided by both of them but Owen had quickly learnt that Claire would never pick up and leave the bustling life she had always lead.

He should have gone to Brazil with Barry, found another girl and basked in the bar scene for the rest of his days. He couldn’t let Claire go. Even at its worst he was stuck on her.

Claire, so far as he was concerned, had been his complete equal. She challenged him, kept him sane, secure, empowered. Owen had never relied on anyone for anything but just as Claire had learnt to do the same to him, he let his guard down and developed a dependance in a few certain areas.

The sex was phenomenal. He could never forget that. She had ruined him. No one in the last two years had lived up to her standard. They were great, wonderful, sweet even but no one touched him like Claire did. No one mewled and whimpered like Claire did. No one kissed him, writhed against him, or begged for more like Claire did. And no one, in two hellish years had managed to take control of the bedroom like Claire Dearing had done.

She was it for him even though she made him live a miserable life. Had circumstances been different, had she done what she promised they would have had their life and he wouldn’t have been  sitting there swigging back beers and denying that he was depressed.

[…]

‘How’s the house?’ It was idle small talk, nerves getting the better of her as Claire’s eyes drifted over the bar they were sat in. She had been here before, Thanksgiving a year or two ago where they came together and fell apart all over again.

This was the place where her daughter started to begin. This or his Airstream trailer. That baby was just about seven-months-old now. She was a little uncomfortable to be there again, hands fidgeting in her lap as she watched Owen’s fingers pick at the label on his Budweiser, the forth in a line of empty bottles with missing labels, peeled and curling on the table beside him.

Owen hummed, head nodding from side to side. ‘It’s a work in progress.’ She was trying not to be bitter about it, the property he made her fall in love with before he snatched it right out from underneath her the second they split. It hurt to know he was building on it now, erecting a house where her dream was supposed to lie. Claire, at least managed to rationalise that it was better he had it than anyone else.  ‘What’re you here for?’

She had walked in like she frequented the place, spotted him sitting in his usual booth and plopped herself down without a word. He loved her confidence, even when she was uncertain.

‘The DPG.’ She cleared her throat, raising a glass of water to her lips, knowing he needed pause to protest the rising presence of her organisation.

Owen grunted, head shaking as he rolled the bottle in his hands. ‘Leave ‘em alone, Claire.’ His words were low, gravel and warning.

She shook her head. ‘We can’t. The volcano had been causing some alarm. We’ve been told it’ll erupt and if it does all life on that island will cease to exist.’ Owen grunted, barely tolerating her save for the new bottle deposited on the table by a waitress who barely stopped. ‘We made them, Owen. They didn’t chose to re-exist. We can’t just let them die.’

‘ _We_  didn’t do nothing, Claire.’

She shook her head again, ‘I was Senior Assets Manager. I approved the creation of half the assets in the park. I insisted on it in order to boost park numbers.’

He shrugged, ‘Why are you pulling me into this?’

Claire straightened her posture, shuffling in her seat as something in the pitch of her stomach ached for her baby. She wanted to go home. Wanted to cuddle her child tight to her chest instead of sitting there arguing with Owen who was undeniably drunk. ‘There’s a man, Benjamin Lockwood, he has a  _sanctuary_  for the animals, a place to relocate them. They need my help … my hand print to reactivate the trackers in the dinosaurs.’ He was staring at her blankly, almost bored with hooded eyes.

‘A rescue operation. Save the dinosaurs from an island that’s about to explode. What could possibly go wrong?’ He scoffed at her. ‘It’s insane, Claire.’

‘I have to try!’  She was insisted, voice raising a little with frustration. If anything, Claire hated being undermined especially by Owen who should have known better. ‘When these animals are gone, that’s it! There’s no more.’

Owen rolled his eyes, gaze moving to the movement of his fingers against the grain of the table. ‘You can’t make this better, Claire. You have to live with it.’

‘What about Blue?’ She tried to bargain, hitting him where it hurt.  

Owen growled, voice low, protective and threatening. She’d heard it once or twice before but never had the sound been directed at her. ‘Blue’s dead, Claire.’ He had never been given evidence otherwise but he chose to claim that game three years ago in the heat of their arguments. It was his final move in saying he had put the island behind him and never wanted to think about it again.

The wisps of her hair that had fallen lose from her pony tail, brushed against her cheeks with the shake of her head. ‘I saw her.’ Eli Mills, head of Lockwood’s foundation had shown her footage from the island. It was scarce and quick moving but it was undeniably Blue.

‘You know, Lockwood’s flunky called me last week. Tried to spin the same story.’ She was surprised by that. Mills hadn’t said anything about that. She wanted to show Owen up, tell him that she had spouted knowledge  _he_  taught her to Mills about Blue and the fact that they would never catch her.

‘She’s the last of her kind, Owen, she must be preserved. Or are you going to let her die?’

‘Yeah,’ he offered despite the pain on his face.

‘Owen,’ Claire sighed, ‘You don’t mean that’. She stuttered, words caught on the tip of her tongue. She wanted this for her daughter, the marvels of what man could recreate to show that sweet girl there were no limits to her wants and dreams of the world. She couldn’t say that to him, couldn’t beat the man down until he bled. She had a feeling there was no way she would win this argument.

He shrugged. ‘I do, Claire. Stop playing God.’

Claire stood, shuffling herself out of the booth so she could tower over him for just a minute, never usually allowed that moment of strength. ‘I don’t know why I thought you would care.’ She straightened her blouse, looking down on him as her nose curled at the smell of him. ‘Sorry to have wasted your  _valuable_ drinking time.’

She left without another word.

[…]

Guilt got to him.

He had tried to play cold against it. Ultimately, Blue got to him. He raised her. Poured every second of his days into those dinosaurs and the thought of her burning on that island when she had an opportunity at a new life was starting to haunt himself. If Claire succeeded, and he knew she would, Owen would never forgive himself for not helping Blue.

Claire needed him. She hadn’t said it exactly and he knew she could take care of herself but he didn’t like the idea of her going back alone.  

He couldn’t stop drinking. His intake lowered significantly but he wasn’t able to stop and he knew she knew that the second they met in Costa Rica like she could smell it on him before she even walked in the room. Hell, she was always smart. Claire would have been checking in with Zach if she really was concerned.

‘Glad to see you made it.’ She gave him a stern nod, standing in front of Owen in khaki pants and knee high boots. Claire was acting like the boss but he could see she had no control here. This wasn’t her idea nor her mission, she was just another pawn, used as much as he was. He wondered if they used the baby against her, promising a better world for her child if the creatures on the island continued to live.

‘Did I have a choice?’ He asked, desperate for a drink as he eyed off the men with guns who would be escorting them to Isla Nublar any minute now. Claire rolled her eyes.

‘We’ll be doing good.’ She looked down at her phone, tapping at the screen impatiently before her head lifted, seeking out an exit to their conversation. Claire didn’t want to avoid him but he was being antagonistic and she could tell he didn’t want to be there as much as she needed him there. If he ruined this for her she would never forgive him. It would have been easy not to ask. She could have gone alone with her team but there was a comfort there in knowing Owen Grady was coming back with her.

It had been four years since they left that island and although she had made peace with what happened there, Claire was starting to feel her anxiety build.

Owen shook his head with a pitiful laugh. ‘No, okay, see this is where you and I differ. You’re not doing’ any good takin’ those dinosaurs off that island. What the hell is the plan then? Don’t you remember what happened in ’97? The —‘

‘— T. Rex got loose, caused havoc in San Diego.’ Claire cut him off. She remembered. ‘What they did in ’97 was reckless and stupid. That’s not going to happen here. Lockwood’s sanctuary isn’t on a mainland. There’s another island where they can be free, no human contact beyond their relocation.’

It was too late to turn back now.

Returning to Isla Nublar after four years was absurd. The island was nothing like it had once been. They considered it a jewel in family entertainment but now it had been tainted with decay. Everything was in shambles, barely standing and coated in broken glass. It was almost unrecognisable if they hadn’t spent a large portion of time working there.

He caught Claire in a few moments, her fingers running over the edge of garden beds or touching plaques they had put so much time and money into. This was her livelihood. He sometimes forgot that she had been working with Masrani since she was nineteen-years-old, dedicating her life to his work and projects.

Owen couldn’t find the energy to talk to her. Every time he looked in her direction, his chest pulled vision blurring with the sight of a small redhead strapped to her chest. She shouldn’t have been there. Her baby was only eight months old. Instead of facing his problems, Owen acted like a disgruntled teen grunting, humming, and barely verbal. Her team were nice enough, Zia and Franklin, intelligent in their own rights but way too over eager to get their hands on the action. Owen had seen enough of that in his Navy days and knew it only ever ended in devastation.

 _‘What could go wrong?_ ’ He had told her drunkenly, mocking the plan to return here. He knew it would be carnage, prehistoric beasts had the lay of the land for the last four years, capturing them would not be an easy task. They had managed to get by unscathed, Claire’s access worked, rebooting the locator chips in the dinosaurs set up on tablets programmed by Franklin. They were able to pinpoint Blue’s location.

He thought he was alone, tracking Blue into the woods, his girl mere inches from being back in the palm of his hand when a hoard of heavily armed men appeared from the thick of the trees. They shot her, his Blue falling flat to the ground with a shriek. He turned on them, furious, gun raised in a shaky hand. They wasted no time in hitting him with a tranquilliser dart and leaving him in the dirt.

Owen came too exactly where he fell, island rumbling underneath him. He managed to push himself to his feet as molten lava started to bubble towards him, sliding down the mountain and into his part of the trees. His legs were jelly under the weight of his body, mind foggy, and thankfully for Owen it felt no different to his binges.

Claire and Franklin were in the valley panting and wild eyed. Things here were not going to plan.

He wanted to find Ken Wheatley and ring his hands around the other man’s neck for hurting his girl and locking his … Claire in the crumbling bunker. She was wide eyed and startled, a panic already causing her breathing to alter as her hands locked around his wrist and refused to let go. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She had a baby at home and nearly saw her death at the jaws of a Baryonyx.

There was no time to recover, no breather as they moved for a lone gyrosphere left sitting in the valley.

It was a blur, his mind still foggy but Owen couldn’t remember the sequence of events once the T.Rex made an appearance, seemingly out of nowhere as the rumble of the island disguised her steps. One minute Claire was beside him, in the next she was rolling down the hill with Franklin in a Gyrosphere that was offline and heading straight for a cliff’s edge.

He ran, pushing his body and legs to a breakable limit as smoke from the mountain started to chase him. He didn’t see the gyrosphere disappear, or catch the edge of the cliff. Owen ran in grey ash and ember until the ground moved out from underneath his feet.

The salt water stung his eyes as he blinked, seeking out the blue orb desperately as he dived. They still had air when he reached them, water up to Claire’s shoulders as she continued to look at him with wide startled eyes like she couldn’t quite believe he’d come to save her.

She was shaking her head, mouthing something he couldn’t hear as her small hands banged against the glass. He could only guess what she was saying. It was no use. He wouldn’t be able to break the glass and set them free. He needed to save himself. She was pleading with him, palm flat to the glass as the water rose higher. Owen couldn’t give up, not on Claire he had done it before and the last two years had shown him it was the worst decision he had ever made.

The glass moved, shifting as water filled the rest of the cabin, Claire and Franklin taking deep breaths as her small fingers slid across his, helping in pushing at the door panel. The relief Owen felt when his hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her through her glass coffin was indescribable. He didn’t let go of her until he absolutely had too, the both of them needing their arms to cut the water as they kicked towards the surface.

‘You okay?’ He asked, voice croaking from the scratch of salt water, their bodies crawling their way towards solid land. She was still in the path of the ebbing tide when she stopped, lying on her back, chest heaving. Claire nodded, non verbal as the three of them lay there trying to catch their breaths and forbidding the thought that they nearly died from their minds.

‘Claire,’ He reached for her, arm sliding across the wet sand as his thick fingers came into contact with her smaller ones. It took a minute, but before he knew it Claire was straddling his waist, her hands cupping his cheeks as her lips met his.  

He groaned the second their lips touched, feeling like he had been starved of her for a century as his arms raised up around her, one sliding up her back as the other settled over her ass. She wiggled under his hold, resettling her straddle as her hips ached at the broad stretch of his waist. Claire’s lips melded to his, her tongue hungry and teasing as she rolled her hips against his, lip quirking at the easy groan she pulled from him.

They were soaping wet, bodies just pulled from the ocean as their clothes clung fiercely to their skin. She kissed him like she was desperate. The same little way she used to do when they were together but had been apart for a few days. Claire used to meet him with that kiss after a hunting trip or a simple day at work. She wanted his clothes off. Needed them off. This was her dance and he knew it well. She only managed to get rough when she wasn’t getting what she wanted at the nip of her teeth against his lip was just the reminder that he needed to think of something and do it fast.

She nearly died right in front of him. The thought caught up to him as his hands squeezed on their perch, feeling the ooze of water that seeped from her clothes with his pressure. She hadn’t been his for two years but he nearly lost her and Owen knew that would have done nothing but put him in a matching grave.

Need pulled at Claire’s throat, the sound strangled and desperate making him grin as her hands on his chest twisted in his stubborn shirt. Franklin cleared his throat, making them both jump. Too caught up in each other they forgot he was there.

‘Where’s Zia?’ The younger man asked when Claire and Owen managed to detangle themselves from one another.

Owen shook his head. He didn’t know but he could take one guess.

[…]

Ken Wheatley wasn’t pleased to see the three of them still standing, Claire barely able to hold Owen back. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen,’ Claire put on her c-level executive voice, trying to find the power between these men.

The dinosaurs were loaded into trucks already sitting on a boat ready to leave for the sanctuary. Somewhere, in the midsts of it all was Zia and Blue two items of which Wheatley wasn’t letting go. ‘You take Franklin with you.’ She watched the other man open his mouth to protest. ‘Zia  _will_  need help. Franklin has worked with her before.’ In an office, making calls for donations. Franklin didn’t know the first thing about dinosaurs or helping them beyond asking local senators to back their movement. Even then, he didn’t have great people skills.

Claire just needed to know Zia wasn’t alone with this hostile group. ‘You get what you want, Owen and I, we’ll stay here. We’ll leave in the morning with the the rest of the crew. We’re out of your hair.’ She wanted to go home to her daughter. Fuck the dinosaurs. If it was going to cause them this much grief she didn’t want to be apart of it. Between the two of them, she and Owen had faced death four times in the space of a few hours.

Claire was exhausted.

Wheatley, surprisingly, agreed to that exchange likely because he thought the island wouldn’t last until morning. Franklin went reluctantly, throwing Claire helpless looks as he moved towards the armed men looking like he’d faint in any minute.

Owen refused to turn his back as Wheatley and his team boarded the boat, guns still trained on them. ‘I ain’t givin’ them an opportunity to shoot me in the back.’ Not again, he told her. He was mad enough as it was, island radiating his anger as the boat pulled away from the dock and left them there.

[…]

The crew had bunkered down in the old Command building where the walls and security remained stable for the night. One could never be too careful when trying to sleep on an island full of dinosaurs. They were safe from the volcano here, just out of reach, not forever but until they could leave in the morning.

She nearly died. Her mind replayed it over and over on an endless loop. This whole thing was a stupid ass mistake and she knew it, everyone tried to warn her. Claire Dearing had come face to face with dinosaurs wreaking havoc on her island once before, she thought she could handle them again.

If she had died, she would never have seen her baby again. How reckless did she have to be to leave an eight-month-old baby behind in the pursuit of saving prehistoric life?

‘It feels weird being back here.’ Owen hummed, stepping foot into what had once been her office. The space had remained untouched for four years, her name still on the door and the furniture just where she had left it.

Claire was sitting on one of the couches. He had rarely seen her use those, caught her on a rare occasion where she was running small meetings with her personal staff or Masrani himself. Spotted her once, sitting there, legs crossed, Chinese take away in her hand way too late at night to still be at work. He wanted to join her then, pick up idle small talk and woo her long into the night. Now, Claire had dragged it towards the window, perching herself on the edge as she peered through tall glass out and over what had once been her kingdom.

She hummed back. It was unsettling. Claire used to spend so many nights locked away in this office, tapping at keys or dialling numbers as the park beyond her window sparkled with life. It was dark now. They were keeping the lights in control on a minimum, worried they would attract the attention of unwanted visitors while they slept. 14 species had been extracted but that didn’t mean the island was empty.

Owen wordlessly handed her a mug of tea.

‘How’s your head?’ She asked, shuffling over so he could sit next to her. Owen shrugged, eyes on the window, pensively watching the volcano in the distance. He’d never thought about it before. Trusted that it was safe considering they built a family theme park around it.

He didn’t notice she had moved until he felt her fingers on his cheek, warm from her mug as she turned his face towards hers.

She didn’t say anything. Just looked over his face, her eyes pouring into his as her thumb stroked his cheek. ‘You need to rest.’ She told him softly, voice barely there.

‘So do you.’ Owen insisted, leaning against her palm as he blinked slowly.

She didn’t know what was happening. Something there in his green eyes warming her as she felt herself sway into him. Things were so easy with Owen. He knew her better than she knew herself and vice versa.

Claire couldn’t say who kissed who first but her lips were sliding across his before she knew it, feeling the impatient push of his tongue in a second flat. His hands were on her, one sliding over her back as his heavy palm settled on her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh until he managed to pull her into his lap. She sighed, whole body feeling like she was  _home_  in his embrace, his hands heavy but sure as one found its way under her singlet to sit against the small of her back. She sighed, melting against him as his stubble scratched against her cheek, his mouth trailing from her lips to her neck, stopping at her pulse point.

‘God, I missed you.’ He breathed so easily it felt natural, Claire almost forgetting their time, place and circumstance. This wasn’t the old them, holed up in an apartment for two years where the sex was explosive and continuous. That wasn't them anymore, before the island needed him, Claire hadn’t seen Owen for a year. Not since she told him about the baby.

She wanted to give in to it, wanted in the privacy of her office to let him keep touching her for old times sake. But, she closed her eyes and could see nothing but the vast expanse of water that was swallowing her whole, the sound of Owen banging on the glass outside of her prison echoing in her ears.

‘Claire.’ His voice cut through her conscious, hands tight on her arms. ‘Hey, deep breaths.’ His voice was soft, comforting, lulling Claire’s vision to focus as she was reminded the gyrosphere was over. They were on the island, high above ground, breathing and whole. She was supposed to be worrying about him and the effects of the tranquilliser coursing through his system not be the cause of concern herself. 'There you are.’ His smile was intoxicating, a hand letting go of her arm to stroke at her hair. ‘Where’d you go?’ He asked softly, fingers touching her cheek.  

She shook her head, pulling herself out of his lap as she curled against the opposite end of the small couch. ‘I’m sorry.’ She was meek, eyes diverting his gaze as she found her mug of tea and returned to sipping at it. ‘I want to go home.’ Claire sniffled, cracking his chest in two as Owen watched her carefully. They both knew all she had to do was ask him, and he would stop at nothing to remove her from that island in a second flat.  

Silence settled over them, Claire returning to staring out the window, panic rising up her spine once again. Owen was flush with her side, his hand sliding over her shoulders. ‘Breathe, Claire.’ She was hyperventilating, hands clasped tight around her mug as her shoulders shook violently. ‘Hey, why don’t you tell me about the baby?’ He tried to distract her, fishing for anything to bring Claire onto the natural plane.

They used to talk about the boys. When the night was dark and infuriatingly long. Her nightmares were lesser then, still present but not as violent as what he was currently witnessing. She needed something solid, something she could pinpoint and hold onto. The boys were full of hope and activities they were bursting to engage with on their visits. The baby, that was hers, pure and solid.

Claire blinked at him, eyelashes damp with her tears. ‘Imogene?’ She asked as he felt his heart seize.  _Imogene_. He had submerged himself so deeply in not knowing anything about this child that her name hit him in the chest like a ramrod at full force. Her smile was small, eyes still teary as she shook her head. ‘You don’t want me to talk about her.’ Owen opened his mouth to protest. ‘It’s gonna make things worse.’ She didn’t want to think about her daughter to calm down her thoughts and feelings of the day. ‘I just want to feel something.’ She told him shyly, blue eyes meeting green.

Owen knew what she meant, hated to admit that it sent a shiver down his spine.

‘Can you take me against my desk?’ She asked so meekly Owen wasn’t even sure it was Claire asking at all.

He choked on his tea. ‘Excuse me?’

Claire shrugged, cheeks going red. ‘You mentioned it once. That you wanted to fuck me against my desk … the windows too, actually.’ Her eyes were hooded when they met again, Claire pushing at a stray hair on he cheek as she felt the warmth of her cheeks against her knuckle. ‘Please.’ He could never resist when she begged.

He felt like a wild animal when their lips collided. A small part of himself hated this idea, they just went from making out like randy teenagers to Claire having a panic attack. The last thing she needed was this. But, Claire was instigating, woman back in his lap as he got caught up in the feeling. She had been like this before, waking from nightmares to straddle him, slide her hand into his pants, taking his sleep weighted hand and using it to grasp her own breast. Despite her He lifted her easily, hands under her ass as he stood and walked her towards the old desk.

Her small hands slid between their bodies, quick fingers making work of his pants before they slipped inside and curled around his dick. Perched on the edge of her desk, she kept a fast pace, hand stroking him as she peppered kisses down his neck, her body humming with every touch he laid on her. His hands pulled at her singlet, large palm sliding between her ribs.

She was already panting soft little noises against his ear when she pushed his hand into her pants, Owen’s thick fingers finding her slick and impatient as his index finger circled her clit. He knew how to play her, knew how to please and knew that he shouldn’t disobey Claire Dearing’s sexual advances. She sighed against him, whimpering and desperate as she kissed him with a thousand intentions. He wanted to decode each and every one, wanted to fall at her feet and apologise for the last year and beyond. Owen wanted redemption and forgiveness. He was ready to ask her if he could come home to that studio apartment in the middle of San Francisco where he had once been miserable.  

It was what she did to him. Made him weak as he soaked in the sweet smell of her hair still lingering despite the day they had. He knew she wanted a shower to wash the sweat and grime, had wined about it but wasn’t willing to risk the employee locker rooms on the first floor. No one was. It felt too exposing to be down there. After the day she had, Claire wasn’t taking any more chances.

‘I need you.’ She whimpered, lips against his neck, hand tight around his cock as the other dug moderate nails into his back. He curled his hands around the waistband of her jeans, feeling the elastic of her underwear against the pads of his fingers as he pulled, Claire lifting her weight to help him. He almost had her where he wanted her, close to the promise land until her phone started to ring on the couch by the window.

He tried to ignore it, lips on her collar bone when Claire pushed at his chest. ‘It might be Karen.’ She panted, their foreheads pressed together. Claire kissed the side of his neck, the feeling mournful as she pulled away from him sliding her jeans back up her legs with the decency to look apologetic.

She composed herself expertly. Owen hadn’t seen it happen in so long he was almost taken aback. Claire put her walls back up, brick by brick as she smoothed out her appearance, re-buttoned her jeans and rushed over to the phone.

He watched her, a rejected man, heart sinking into his stomach. He had leapt for her when she asked  and she dumped him in a second flat. Owen couldn’t find the strength to leave the room. Instead, he watched her reach for her phone and accept the call. ‘Hey, Karen, is everything alright?’ She smiled at him as she sat on the couch, legs curled under her, gnawing on her thumb in the moonlight.

Owen made an exit when she started cooing into the phone’s receiver, Owen fixing his pants as he zipped himself back up. For ten minutes it felt like  _them,_ the Owen and Claire they used to be. He shouldn’t have succumbed to it, mind and body weak for her missing his whiskey fuel and still a little erratic from the tranquilliser.

He wandered out of the room at the sound of Claire’s voice singing  _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_  in the dark of her abandoned office to the body of a child that sat hundreds of miles away, partly made up of his DNA.

Imogene. She had a name. He couldn’t seem to get over that.

‘Hey, where did you go?’ Claire was behind him, flaming red hair all he could see in the dark hallway. He shrugged, unsure of himself. He just knew he needed to get out of that room while she was on the phone, singing to the baby they shared. The baby he chose to walk away from in so many different forms.

'Didn't there used to be a balcony around here somewhere?’ He asked, already knowing the answer as he caught the shake of Claire’s hair. He stepped towards her, hands in his pockets knowing there was no other road to follow. Not anymore. Not when he saw the panic in her eyes trapped in that gyrosphere or the constant worry she had thrown his way in regards to Owen’s health. They were supposed to be angry with one another but he couldn’t help but feel love and the guilt that resurged from leaving her.

She really was just trying to do the right thing by these animals. Who was he to tell her it was an unnecessary passion. He saw Claire fight demons of guilt for years as the suspected body count of the Indominus Rex incident rose with speculation.

‘Thanks for the tea.’ She murmured, their bodies slipping through the door of her office, Claire returning to the couch. ‘I’m sorry for making things weird.’ He wished she’d stop apologising.

‘Oh, the desk thing? I’m already past that.’ He teased regardless of the fact that he was still semi hard in his pants, his mind trying to will the rest of it away when all he could think about was the ghost of her breath on his neck.

Back in some semblance of light, he caught the flush of her cheeks, ivory of the moon complimenting her pale complexion. Claire shook her head. ‘We shouldn’t have been doing that.’

Owen cleared his throat. ‘You’re right.’

‘It felt good, though.’ She admitted shyly, eyes meeting his as he loitered by the couch but couldn’t bring himself to sit. If he sat, he’d kiss her again, her body close enough to his to pull right back into his lap. He had forgotten how good it felt to hold her and now he was an addict again. ‘I’m sorry about Karen and the baby.’ For the interruption they caused. Owen shrugged, he was a big boy. He could get over it.

‘You’re a mom now. It happens.’

She smiled, shy and soft, uncertain but incredibly happy. He'd told her one year, for her birthday, that she could pick out any pair of shoes in any store and he’d buy them no matter the price tag. Her smile then could rival this one.

‘No one has said that to me.’ She admitted quietly, small laugh rolling past her lips. ‘I’m a mom.’ Her daughter was eight-months-old and despite that no one outside of Karen had put a name on her motherhood.

Owen grinned, unable to help himself despite the curl in his stomach. She was contagious. He was doing this for her, Owen realised for the tenth time that day. Her nervous laugh, scared of being ridiculed in her glee even by him despite that never being the case. He was there for her. So Claire could go home and continue being the best mom he knew she could be.

‘You can come visit, you know.’

The dinosaur drama was over. Tomorrow, they would board an aircraft and they would go home to their lives where the DPG didn’t need Claire to raise their funding anymore. Where she could be more comfortable in jeans and the stolen tees he knew she had.

‘You could have. At any point.’ He sat on the opposite end of the couch. ‘I never would have stopped you. I won’t stop you.’

Owen shook his head. ‘I don’t deserve her.’

‘Let Imogene decide that.’ She offered him a comforting smile, telling Owen in her ways that she needed that support. Needed to know that he was ready to jump into this if the need arose. She didn’t want her daughter to not know her father. They both were missing parents as children. Claire thought he could relate to that.

[…]

It felt strange parting ways with him at the airport and returning home without him when so much of her mind believed they were one again.

Claire washed herself of the island before she wrapped her arms around her daughter, revealing in the sweet relief that washed over her to be home. Imogene was quiet in her return, happy to curl up in her mother’s arms and stay there as Claire committed the small changes in her daughter to memory, convinced the girl had grown in their two day distance.

Claire woke in the middle of the night with a fright. Nightmares had trickled into her thoughts, one in particular taking centre stage now that she was alone. It was easy to keep them at bay with his presence, Owen sleeping on the floor by her office couch, his soft snores filling her dreamless sleep.  They had only been apart for a little over six hours and her mind was telling her that he had drowned. She could see the bodies of the dinosaurs falling into the ocean around them once again, as Owen twitched in the water outside of the glass his eyes glazing over as his body started to drift. She could hear the blunt sound of her hands hitting the bullet-proof casing, palms slamming against it in a desperate rhythm her voice dry as the salt water seeped into her lungs.

Awake, she knew Imogene was in the crib against the wall, Claire having dragged it in there for piece of mind. She could see her daughter’s little silhouette in the dark and hear her suckling on a pacifier, grunting at herself in her sleep. Owen was just as alive as her baby was real.

Claire reached for her phone, needing the confirmation before she could close her eyes again.  _Thank you_ was all she sent, letting the message find Owen in the midsts of the night. She wanted to tell him that they had to stop finding themselves in situations like that, where one was risking their life for the other. She couldn’t keep holding it on her conscious.

Imogene grizzled in her crib, pacifier no longer in her mouth as Claire hit the lock button on her phone and climbed out of bed to get her. ‘It’s okay, baby, Mama’s here.’ She soothed, lifting Imogene out of her crib easily. Claire couldn’t describe the love she felt every time her daughter’s sleep-heavy head found her shoulder, nevertheless, her heart swelled, tried feet padding back towards the warmth of her covers.

Her phone was buzzing against the sheets when she sat back down, baby cradled in her arms, Owen’s name on the screen with an old picture she never managed to delete, his lips pressed to her cheek. Claire accepted the call, pressing her phone between her ear and shoulder as her finger stroked across Imogene’s plump cheek.

‘ _Nightmares?_ ’ He asked, following her quiet greeting, his voice just as rough as hers, tired and dry between the clouds and the moon. Claire hummed, answering him easily with affirmation as her daughter gave her an impatient and hungry shriek. ‘The baby’s there?’ Owen asked, surprise soaking his voice.

Claire hesitated with her response, tongue caught between her teeth as she juggled the phone and the wriggling baby, who wasn’t waiting for Claire to lift her shirt. ‘Ah, yeah.’ Claire managed through pursed lips, still caught in concentration as she wished her daughter to be a few months younger again, easier to nurse and far less impatient. ‘I have to feed her.’ She felt shy, exposed in the dark of her bedroomthe , baby finally latched and happy at her breast. ‘ _Someone -_ ’ Claire continued, soft loving sound to her voice, ‘-forgot we finished night feeds two weeks ago’. She couldn’t cease the movement of her finger stroking over the baby’s soft cheek.

‘She probably just missed you.’ Owen offered, insecure like he knew he had no place talking about babies, let along  _hers_  and her habits. But, it was sweet, hearing that reassurance come from him making her feel less guilty for caving into the baby’s will. Claire just didn’t want to hear her crying all night, not when she could still feel the rattle of adrenaline in her chest.

Silence sat between them, Owen not sure what to say and Claire unwilling to end the call. Her ears were filled with the crackle of the phone and the noise of her daughters suckles, baby grunting between breaths every now and then. She wanted this to be awkward, late night calls while she fed her baby, but it wasn’t. ‘She’s a noisy eater.’ Owen chuckled, Claire practically able to hear the smile on his face as she hummed with her teeth pressed into her lip.

‘Takes after her daddy,’ Claire smiled, knowing he couldn’t see it as Imogene grizzled, small fingers flexing against her mothers chest. She was a big eater as well, her appetite enough to rival Owen’s when she stopped pretending solid foods were not on her radar. Owen had a habit, eating out on the balcony, one arm hooked around his meal with his shoulders hunched over like someone was going to walk in and take it. He always frowned too, ate like the whole ordeal displeased him. She saw those qualities in Imogene when the girl’s face wasn’t relaxing towards sleep.

‘I’m honoured.’ He told her.

'I meant it, Owen, you can come over and see her whenever you like. I won’t stop you.’ She promised to send him her new address. ‘You just … you can’t have been drinking. I don’t want that in my house.’ She knew he wasn’t on the straight and narrow, could tell from their meeting before heading off to the island, saw it in the shake of his wrist when he handed Claire her tea. It wasn’t her job to fix him anymore. She was staying out of it but he couldn’t bring it into her home.

He hummed, the same noncommittal sound he used to throw at her when he couldn’t find the words.

‘Hey Owen,’ she waited for his acknowledgement. ‘I named her after Grace.’ She heard his breath catch and release on the other end of the line. She knew how much his grandmother meant to him, how much it would mean to have a living honour in her name. ‘Imogene Grace.’ Claire elaborated.

He stuttered on the other end, lung rattling. ‘Claire, you didn’t have to do that.’

‘I loved her too.’ She argued. His grandmother had welcomed her with open arms and an open heart singing praises that Owen had found someone to love. Claire had never felt welcome in anyone’s home the way she did in the company of Grace Grady, her husband and Owen’s little sister Kit. She knew too, on their second visit to Missouri that his grandmother had handed over her engagement ring with the instruction that Owen was to give it to Claire when she was ready. She never saw it beyond their first visit when it was sitting on Grace’s frail hand.

Claire was bereaved when she heard Grace had died. She wanted to call Owen, express her grief and have him hold her through the night. But, there was something in the back of her head that told Claire she was being selfish. Grace was his family. No matter if Kit had called her or not. She was seven months pregnant and not fit to fly. Paid for the flowers as a tribute instead of reaching out to Owen.

In a way, Claire felt like Grace was hers. She had no place to. But, they had built up a habit of visiting a few times a year and calling every chance they could. Kit, who at 25 and who had claimed herself as guardian of her elderly grandparents managed to connect them to Skype allowing Grace and Henry to  _see_  their boy even when he wasn’t visiting. Claire, in every call, was always right beside him. GiGi often called just looking for Claire, wanting to share pie recipes and asking about their plans for Christmas. She’d never had a grandmother before and her memories of her mother were so faint Claire thought of them like photographs. But, Grace was there, squeezing her hand and calling her  _Dear_ , telling her she was too skinny in the same way Owen did before trying to feed her sweet cakes and tea.

‘She was askin’ about you last I spoke to her.’ He told her, Claire’s turn to hold her breath. ‘I couldn’t find the courage to tell her we split up. Is that wrong? I just didn’t want her to be disappointed.’ Claire could see the logic in that. She had played the same game with Kit on the phone. Hell, she hadn’t spoken to his family in months before she heard about Grace, finding it too hard to keep in contact with the loss of Owen’s presence. They were his family. She didn’t want to overstep no matter how much she felt like they were  _hers._  Owen waited for a beat. ‘I told her you were pregnant. She was expecting pictures.’

‘Oh, Owen.’ She sighed, voice caught in her throat. Tears burning her eyes. ‘You should have told me. I would have sent her some.’ She would have called. Would have held up false pretences just to keep his grandparents happy. Visits wouldn’t have happened but she could do a monthly FaceTime for the sake of saving his ass.

‘Sometimes I think I didn’t tell her because I wanted to come back and I knew I would just look like an ass if I told them I’d left you. Kit would have told you not take me back.’ He laughed with self-pity while Claire took a hand from exploring her daughter’s soft cheeks and needy fingers to grip her phone in a tight hold.

‘You can come back.’ She told him quietly, scared to admit it. She didn’t want to do this alone which wasn’t to say she couldn’t. Claire just lived so long without a typical family structure she wanted something  _normal_  for her girl. She nearly whimpered a  _please_ , bottom lip rolling as she squeezed her eyes closed against the need.

‘I’ve ruined everything, Claire.’ He admitted as she finally let go of a cry, disrupting the baby at her chest. Claire was shaking her head, it wasn’t ruined, Imogene would have no memories of this he could come home and act like he had been there the whole time. They could book a flight to Wyoming and visit his family so she could cry profusely over Grace’s grave and apologise to the older woman for being so stupid.

The dinosaurs were done. That was his biggest problem, the pushing point between them that lead them on different paths. It was done. The storm had been weathered and although the apartment was new it was still missing something that only Owen Grady could fill.

[…]

It killed him to hear her crying on the other end of the line, upset at the divide they let fall between them. He soothed her to the best of his ability, sitting in his bed, trailer silent and still around him. He promised they could fix it. Grace was gone but Henry remained and Owen was more than happy to venture out to Wyoming so Claire could introduce their daughter to his family.

He understood that they had been stupid. So, unbelievably dense and subconsciously aware of it that they avoided the solidity of telling family members the truth. She quietened after ten minutes, distracted by the baby fussing in her arms, finally telling him goodnight when she needed to put the phone down.

Guilt pushed down on him, trying to sink Owen into the Earth as the sound of Claire’s tears mingled with Imogene in his ears on a constant haunting loop. He felt terrible. It was all one big fucked up mess and he swirled at the centre of it, living and breathing as the cause of her pain.

Owen had to set things right. He wanted to get in the car and head straight towards her, not stopping until she was warm and happy in his arms again. He couldn’t expect her to forgive all his atrocities but he could ask her to start at the beginning, his fingers twitching, missing the bottle he hadn’t touched in several days. He wanted it, alcohol to soothe his aches, the fuzzy feeling in the back of his mind as the edges of his vision blurred and his life numbed for a minute.

Instead, Owen dug around his trailer, trying to find the envelope Claire sent him months ago. It was there, somewhere amongst the blueprints, paint swatches and design packages that cluttered the dinette in his trailer. Owen knew he couldn't part with it even when he had decided not to open it. Whether he liked it or not, that baby was part of him and he knew he was a weak man, one enough that he would need that birth announcement when the time came.

He loved her for sending out a physical copy. No emails, Facebook or Instagram. Good old gloss paper with a picture of his baby girl. It took Owen hours to work up the courage, Claire’s voice in his ear softly telling him he could come back. He was welcome. What did he do to deserve her? So forgiving when he did the worst of things. Had she been Kit he would have told her never to look back. To stand tall and take no man’s shit no matter what he said or pleaded. The second he turned his back on his baby he was done.

Standing in the shoes of that man Owen saw a different story. He was so wrapped up in his own head he didn’t deserve to breathe let alone have a daughter and a loving Claire waiting for him to sort his head out. He didn’t think. Owen wasn’t sure how many times he could say it. He was running from a childhood that left him scared and a absent man who wained in and out of his children’s lives only when he needed more money to score or a wife to beat. Owen didn’t want to become that, so he left, turning into the exact man he spent his whole life fearing. He knew it, too. Caught his reflection a few months ago and recognised a face he never wanted to see. His grandparents would be disappointed. His sister would call him a hypocrite but he didn’t know how to get Claire back.

Turns out she was going to bring him the opportunity and he was lucky for it. This shit didn’t happen to every man. If he sat around waiting for her, she wouldn’t have come. He was lucky they shared the island, the grievances, that Blue was still alive and that she was wanted for the preservation project. Without those elements he would continue drinking himself into the grave, waiting for the house he was building to finally kill him in a construction accident.

He needed a therapist and medication not the bottle.

The envelope was cool beneath his fingers, same size as an A4 sheet of paper, thick, the contents backed with cardboard. He didn’t remember sliding the picture out, just knew that the next time he drew his eyes from the wall to the table that a small face was sitting in front of him wrapped in an olive green blanket, tiny, round cheeked, pursed lips with the faintest brush of red hair across her scalp. Her eyes were closed, keeping Owen waiting as he stared, unable to believe that small face had come from him, his Claire braving her creation. Never would Owen have thought that would happen.

Claire threw him off when she told him she wanted kids. He never expected it. They had been together nearly a full year. He thought she was just trying to distract herself from the one year anniversary of the Jurassic World incident, their names plastered all over the news again, printed in the papers. Their phones were off, the TV too. They spent a full week in bed, no work, no commitments, plain and simple. They took his trailer and drove out to Yosemite, camping in the wilderness with Claire’s creature comforts, managing to hike when they finally found the interest in putting on clothes.

 _‘I want to have a baby_ , _’_  She told him, eyes drawn out to the scenic view of Glacier Point. He stared at her instead of nature, not missing the blue of the rocks and how they matched the colour of her eyes when she was sick. None of that mattered in the moment. The Earth would be there, would change and alter itself but he was far more fascinated in the leaps and bounds Claire Dearing made right in front of his eyes. She changed in a second flat. He never saw it coming.  _‘Not right now. But, in a year or two. When we buy some land.’_ She was nodding to herself, deciding on a good plan without his word.

He didn’t even know, in that moment if Claire was forever for him. She felt like it. They wanted a property, a home outside of the city, build and designed to their desires. He didn’t think that was going to happen either. Just a daydream she liked to talk about, curled against his chest. He wanted these things but he could see Claire swirling back into her work life, all consumed and driven.

He never thought her two-year plan would happen. Never thought she was serious about it.

 _Meet Imogene_  was printed in the blank space beside his daughter’s head. He couldn’t help but think how much she would have changed. This picture was taken eight months ago, babies grew fast. His heart ached that he had missed this stage, a rage building in his chest only aimed to hurt himself.

Claire sent other pictures. All of Imogene, all asleep. He was trying to imagine Claire a little camera happy unable to stop staring at her baby and needing to catch every small detail of her face. He should have been right there, doing the exact same. There was one picture in particular, Owen’s large hands shuffling through the packet that made him stop, breathing caught, heart paused. The only one that contained someone other than the baby. Claire tearily looking down at the baby in her arms, propped up in a hospital bed, almost as pale as the sheets with her cheeks rose red. She looked exhausted but complete, paying no mind to the world around her but the baby she held. There was a note taped to the back, irritating his fingers as he stared at the picture for what felt like hours.

_You won’t hurt us._

His heart stopped, hand flipping the picture back as tears started to burn his eyes. He was so scared of hurting them, staying in Claire’s world until she had thoroughly driven him insane, pushing him to leave when their daughter was old enough to remember it. He left because he was depressed and Claire was no longer making things better. Not because they no longer worked but because she was all consumed again, diving head first into a project that was only bringing him pain every time she mentioned it.

He thought he was protecting her.  

When she came to him, 12 weeks pregnant and still a little unsure. He knew she couldn’t look after herself and him, that the Dinosaur Protection Group were still a huge part of her focus and that he couldn’t clear his mind if she kept brining up Blue.

He wondered then if it would be easier to end his life than keep on living. She cried when he told her he couldn’t be there. Not for her. Not for the baby. His head was a mess and he was only denying it. Making the whole problem worse as he continued to empty his sorrows in a bottle. Even Owen knew that wasn’t going to help.

His chest cracked, pictures spread across his dinette as he curled his fists against the table. He hated himself, Owen decided, trying not to let it drive him mad. What was done, is done there was no changing the last two years. There was only making up for it or making it worse.

Owen grabbed his keys and slipped on his boots. The sun had risen and the birds were singing, there was promise he would hit traffic before even reaching the city. He drove with panic, anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach as the world passed him, pictures of Imogene sliding through his thoughts as he tried to anticipate how much she would have changed. There was a plush penguin sitting on the passenger seat of his car. It was making him a little giddy. Finally, he would be giving it to his daughter.

The teddy had been purchased after he left Claire at the diner. Owen adamant that he couldn’t help Claire in raising her daughter, but the baby boutique he walked past drew him in. He wanted to buy a dolphin. Something connected to his days at work as a Marine. Penguins were all they had. He was going to send it to her. Put it in the post or leave it on her doorstep after the baby was born but he was too far gone, too destructive by that point to do anything good for them. Instead, it sat on the shelf opposite his bed taunting him every morning when he woke up, reminding him that there was a child on this planet because of him and that he was choosing every day to stay away from her.

He knocked on her door with so much strength that his knuckles started to ache. Owen felt a little frantic, unable to stand still as he pushed deep breaths in and out of his lungs. He was a soldier. He knew to be calm and collected even in his greatest moments of fear. He couldn’t let his mind get the better of him now.

‘Oh, hi.’ Claire startled, half stuttering when she pulled the door open to Owen standing there surprise warming across her face.

‘I, ah, I wanted to see her.’ Imogene and Claire too but he wasn’t sure exactly where they stood. Wasn’t sure if he had the strength to admit he needed her. ‘Is now a bad time?’ It was just turning 8am when he’d turned off the ignition in his car, leaving the truck a few houses down.

Regardless of the baby, he knew she would be up. Claire had always been an early riser up with the sun to make the most of her day. Usually dealing with international timezones, already at work before she even got in the car. She shook her head, hair bouncing around her face, knocking her cheeks with the movement. ‘No, come in.’ He hesitated. ‘What’s that?’ She asked, as Owen stepped inside, toy in his hand catching her eye.

‘A penguin?’ He held it up to her, feeling sheepish as Claire’s cheeks broke into a wide grin. ‘I don’t know, it’s stupid.’

She shook her head, ‘Immi loves a good stuffed animal,’ She reassured her smile as soft and gentle as the hugs she used to give, warming him from head to toe.

Owen followed her inside, Claire taking the lead in a home he had never visited. He missed the old apartment, the one they shared but didn’t blame her for moving. This was bigger than the last place, the space open and wide, filled with large windows that promised a perfect view of the sunset. Claire had always functioned better with the sun, so long as it was streaming through her windows and warming her heart she was happy.

He was too busy looking around, catching how her life had changed without him in two years, spying baby things here and there like the strolled by the door and a stay ball in the hallway. Owen had almost forgotten that he was there to meet the child behind these toys when Claire’s voice set his temperature to cold.

‘Here she is.’ He snapped his attention back to the redhead in front of him, her living room embraced by floor to ceiling windows and a luscious rug. She still owned the couch he loved but the coffee table was new, Owen fixating on the details of her furnishings before his eyes drifted.

The baby had her back to him, smashing plastic toys against plastic toys, pushing them impatiently against the buttons of a comical home facade standing a little taller than Imogene herself. It was singing at her, flashing lights and colours as he caught the side of her cheeks rise in a grin and heard the bubble of a giggle slip from her. His heart stopped, lungs refusing to function as Owen wondered then and there if he was willing to consider himself a happy man. Only in that moment. He would do anything for that little girl.

‘Imogene,’ Claire sang her name in a voice distinct to moms, light and almost too high designed to catch the happy attention of their babies.

The girl’s eyes snapped up from her toy, body turning to respond to her mother’s sweet voice. He felt Claire’s hand on his shoulder, her touch soft as she encouraged him to get down lower than his 6’2” height. Imogene was only 15 inches sitting and was prone to distrust in those unfamiliar shapes that loomed over her. He couldn’t remember dropping to his knees or shuffling closer, shins moving from hardwood to the plush feel of Claire’s new rug.

‘Hey, Genie girl.’ He took on the same song like voice Claire had used. Imogene stared at him, blinking with Grady green eyes as he spoke to her, girl assessing whether he was a threat or not. She looked to her mother for a minute before settling on him again. Owen felt his throat go dry and his cheeks start to burn, her eyes were his but her stare belonged to Claire. ‘I brought you something, baby.’ He cleared his throat, voice vibrating as he tried to take some control. The penguin in his hand was an anchor, Owen flashing it at the girl as he made the toy dance.

Imogene grinned easily, face splitting as her round cheeks shone with glee. She shrieked at him, girl pushing herself up onto her knees as she raised her arms over her head. ‘She wants you to pick her up.’ Claire’s voice was quiet behind him, reassuring and comforting. Owen couldn’t will his arms to move. His heart was beating erratically, making his chest pant and his vision blur. What if he dropped her? Or held her too tight? He would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt her no matter how minor. Impatient, like her mother, Imogene scooted forward, not quite perfecting the crawl as Owen’s breathing shallowed with every inch crossed between them.

He didn’t know what to feel or how to feel it. Every emotion coursed through his system as he sat stone still in front of his daughter. When Imogene’s little hand smacked his knee, pushing with all her might into an unsteady stand he thought he was going to burst. She was beside him, small fist curled tightly into the sleeve of his shirt, pulling it towards her as her weight wobbled. Protective need made him react, seeing her unsteady stance, his arms moved to wrap around her, pulling the girl into his chest.

Infant in his arms, Owen felt weightless. She was warm and solid, real under his touch. He breathed her in, the girl smelling exactly like her mother, sweet and familiar. Everything crashed down on him at once, full force knocking the breath from his lungs as the weight of his mistakes tried to crush him.

‘I’m so sorry, Claire.’ He couldn’t help the sob that broke, tears freely sliding down his face as he clutched the little girl in his lap like she was the most precious thing to him. He didn’t want to have missed this, Imogene growing up being soft and dependant on her parents for affection. He didn’t want to miss the birth of his daughter. He had never intended to make Claire feel like she meant nothing to him, when in fact she was his whole world and a little more. Owen had been known to Imogene for three minutes and it was loudly apparent to him that he had made the biggest mistake of his life staying away from her.

‘Who’ve you got, baby? Claire asked, her hand firm against Owen’s shoulder blade, rubbing a soothing circle across his back. Imogene was bouncing in his lap, bare rolled legs pressing against his thigh as she squeaked, excitement controlling her little body. Claire could see his hands shaking, fingers sinking into the tissue of their daughter’s skin, chubby little girl squishy wherever he touched. ‘Have you got your daddy, Immi?’

Owen held his breath.  _Daddy_  ringing in his ears as his guilt continued to crush down on him. He was shaking his head. He didn’t deserve this. Forgiveness, a happy baby, Claire warm beside him rubbing his back in comfort.

‘We can fix this.’ She promised him in a small voice Owen barely heard. He shook his head. ‘She deserves to have her dad in her life.’ He opened his mouth, Claire shook her head. ‘I know why you’re scared,’ She was almost whispering. Clare knew his past, knew that his grandparents raised him. She knew why the idea of a baby and settling down with Claire scared him senseless. ‘You don’t want to be them. You’re not, but you’re getting close.’

Being the product of two alcoholic parents and starting to drink himself into a ditch was what was bringing Owen close to the edge of his fears. He didn’t want to be the man who abandoned his girlfriend whenever things didn’t work for him. Too cowardly and uncommitted to even marry the mother of his son. He didn’t want to be the man who drank himself into a stupor 24/7 and hit around the little boy who only ever wanted to get to know him. He didn’t want to be like the woman who put her kids at risk despite her parents giving her plenty of opportunities to make things right again.

Owen didn’t have enough fingers to list the things he had witnessed in his mother’s care between his first memories and age eleven. He had finally begged his grandparents to stop sending him to his mother for their monthly visits when Kit was two, pleading that more damage was being done than good and that he never wanted to see his mother again. He hadn’t. Not since he was a teen. She was still around. He knew that much. She reached out to Kit for money here and there, his sister always conflicted about helping or not. He always told her to keep her cash in her own pocket rather than their mother’s drunken hand.

‘Just know this, Owen Grady. You leave me again and you are  _never_  coming back.’ Her words slid right between his ribs, sitting against his heart where he waited for it to pierce the muscle. He deserved it, the warning was just and right. He would do much worse by himself if he left this little girl, Imogene tugging on his shirt, one hand clutching the penguin he had bought her.

She was everything to him now.

[…]

‘7 pounds and 6 ounces.’ Claire rattled off the number watching Owen lie on his back, Imogene held high above his head. ‘4:07am on the 5th of July. I was trying to enjoy the fireworks.’ Her youngest nephew thought the first bang of colour high in the sky caught his pregnant aunt off guard enough to wet her pants with fright.

It had been funny for a whole ten seconds until Claire had to admit she’d been feeling contractions for the better part of their afternoon. Karen, despite having two babies herself, was infuriated that Claire hadn’t let her know sooner. She felt the need to be prepared. Had been ready to pounce for weeks now the second Claire called.

Imogene giggled, squeals of laughter peeling from her with each pump of his arms as he lifted her up and down above his head, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her chin or her wrists on every downward pull. ‘We’ll work on your timing.’ He grinned, pulling Imogene down to his chest as he kissed her round cheek. ‘But, it looks like you’re getting fireworks for your birthday every year.’ He turned his head towards Claire, grin so wide he was sure his face would eventually crack.

Claire had thought the same thing when she felt the first signs of labour. Imogene’s birthday, every year would be shrouded in the 4th of July weekend, patriotism and the bright colours of their countries flag. She’d always get a weekend off for her birthday, always have summer, barbecues and family free to visit. It wasn’t exactly the worst date. Claire had just wished there wasn’t so much hullabaloo around it.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’ He told her, deeply apologetic. Owen wished he was there, wished he could hold her hand through the process and kiss the top of her head. He should have been there. Hell, he was given the opportunity to talk to Claire in her deepest moment of need and he turned it down.

Claire shook her head. ‘Karen tried to call,’ his heart stopped, she  _knew_  about that. ‘Said your phone was disconnected. You didn’t like to use it much.’ Owen stopped breathing altogether. Karen had lied for him. When he explicitly said he didn’t want to talk to Claire, her cries ringing in his ears as her sister pleaded. He was a coward. Too scared to know she needed him, upset with himself that he had sprung from his bed and was ready to speed to the hospital. The angry swell of liquor got to him first. Telling him to stay put. She didn’t need him.

‘Ah yeah, I went through a period of not charging it.’ He offered. There was no way he could tell Claire that Karen had gotten through to him. It would kill her. They were just now coming to a good place and he didn’t want to see it ruined.

Claire hummed, it was a very Owen thing to happen. He hated that device warming his pocket, buzzing for his attention whenever someone needed him. Not many people called. Usually it was only Claire, asking that he bring home ice-cream but since they fell apart the device sat silent. Zach and Gray knew where to find him and if Karen wanted them she called their mobiles. She barely spoke to Owen since Imogene was born, clearly still upset about his dismissal.

‘Genie girl,’ He started, bringing the giggling babe back down to sit on his chest, but not before he peppered her cheeks with kisses, dodging the drool covered fist she was pushing against her mouth. ‘Do you want a pony? Daddy’s gonna get you a pony.’ He had an urge to give his baby the world.

‘You can clean up after it.’ Claire laughed, lying beside him, their shoulders touching as their girl giggled.

[…]

Imogene screamed blue murder when Owen tried to walk out of the house after two consecutive days of living in an old pair of sweatpants Claire had stolen from him and a shirt or two. He needed his own clothes, a razor, shoes, maybe even his wallet — Owen wasn’t entirely sure he had left the trailer with it a few nights ago. He needed to check on the property to ensure that no one had wandered out there and taken his tools in the process.

He needed to give them some space. Needed a night to his own head and the breathing of his  solitary Airstream Classic 33FB. The baby knew, the second he handed her back to her mother, that he was going to walk out the door. It took Claire prying tiny fingers off a chunk of his shirt to detangle them, Owen’s heart aching with every tear that slipped down her cheeks.

It was only going to be a few hours, they decided on a day, leaving that morning and not returning to the next but Owen knew himself. Knew he would be too weak to stretch it out for too long.

He had to push himself out the door and into his truck, Genie still crying on Claire’s hip as she promised him quietly they would be fine. Owen swore to himself, giving Genie a small wave, that he wouldn’t hurt them. Not again. Wouldn’t leave them for anything no matter the problem. Dinosaurs could waltz their way back into their lives and he was still going to stick by Claire and Imogene. It did too much damage to the both of them in being apart.

The whole time he was gone, Owen’s thoughts were consumed by Imogene’s tears, distraught because she knew he was leaving. His phone was glued to his pocket now, fully charged and eagerly awaiting anything Claire might send his way.

He had wandered into town after a shower and change of clothes that made him feel more like Owen the man rather than Owen the visitor in Claire’s new home. He needed food, the fridge in his trailer empty and his stomach grumbling at it’s empty level. Owen was waiting for an order to be made at his favourite take-away when he wandered past a baby boutique, a small lion teddy sitting in it’s window. The flaming orange of it’s mane was as vibrant as Claire’s locks, the spirit on it’s stitched face felt like the force of energy his daughter was destined to be. He couldn't explain it. Owen had to have it. Owen bought it without hesitation, tucking the toy under his arm almost giddy to take it back home to his Genie girl.

Back at the property, bones of a house stretching out before him, sitting idle and unfinished for the last few months as Owen lied to himself about his alcohol consumption. He got carried away, revising the plans and calling in a few buddies he used to know in the area. With Imogene’s grinning face and bright green eyes caught in the back of his head, Owen had one thing he needed to do. Finish the house he was building, no more excuses. The money was there, from what savings he had managed to keep hold of as well as the InGen payout when Isla Nublar no longer became a viable career option.

Owen thought he’d be back to Claire by dinner but he had managed a full thirty-six hours before he could pull himself away from the task.

There wasn’t much he could remember about babies from helping raise his sister at eleven years old. But, Owen was sure Imogene would have forgotten him in the day he had been away. Instead, he walked through the door to an excited shriek, his heart filling to spot Imogene on all fours peering around the wall to cheek who had just let themselves into her home. Her whole face lit up at the sight of him, small arms and legs pumping as she bounced and wiggled like an excited puppy until he managed to scoop her up and squeeze her close.

‘I thought I could cook dinner tonight.’ Owen offered, they had spent the last two nights ordering take-out and picking her cupboards bare. A night away and Owen was inspired to give something back, thank her for the hospitality she had sown. It was the least he could do, duffle packed in the back of his car in expectation of a longer stay.

‘I’d like that.’ Claire smiled, her hand rubbing across Imogene’s back soothing the girl who had lowered her head to Owen’s shoulder like her finest possession had just returned. ‘Do you need me to go to the store?’ She asked, trying to help as her daughter clung to him, vowing to her young self that he wasn’t going out of her sight again.

Owen shook his head. ‘Already got it in the car.’ He grinned, always prepared. ‘I have something for you, too.’ He bopped his daughter’s nose, girl coiling against it with a small giggle, not understanding the words he’d said.

It felt surreal walking out of that house with the two of them, Claire barefoot in blue jeans and a blouse, his daughter in a loose dress where the rolls of her arms and legs could be free in the San Francisco air. At the truck, Claire started collecting grocery bags while Owen opened the passenger side to fish out the lion teddy he had purchased the day before.

‘Roar!’ He shook the toy in Imogene’s line of sight, letting the girl look at it before he pressed it’s soft fur to her cheek, proceeding to make nibbling sounds as his baby squeaked and squealed. He could hear Claire chuckle behind Imogene’s laughter, amused by their little game.

‘She’s never letting you go.’ Claire watched Imogene cling, the lion out of Owen’s hands and in hers, pressed between her chest and that of her father’s as her carried her inside, one arm holding her tightly on his hip, the other carrying the remaining shopping bags for Claire. He couldn’t help the grin that broke itself broad across his cheeks, achingly painful but deliriously happy. He could resonate with that. She wasn’t letting him go and Owen had plans to never put her down again.

He cooked with Imogene on his hip, sun setting beyond the large window’s in Claire’s open planned living room, shrouding the house in warm light as she hit play on a blues playlist Owen never admitted to liking no matter how many times she begged him to claim it true. He was swaying in the kitchen, Genie bopping on his hip. She had never seen her daughter stay in one place for longer than two minutes since she found herself mobile. Imogene crawled and climbed and never stopped. Claire feared the day she would get up on two feet and run across the room, it would be all over then. There she was, secure on Owen’s hip, happy to cling to him for near an hour Claire wondering when his arm would get tired of their eight-month-old who now weighed 22 pounds.

‘Can you get that?’ Claire asked, the doorbell ringing through the house as she wandered down the opposite hall. It made Owen nervous to here the bell ringing as the sun was setting. No salesman usually knocked that late, he didn’t know Claire’s neighbours either or the neighbourhood for that matter. It had to be a personal call, one that Claire’s trip to the bathroom could have waited for. Nevertheless, Owen moved for the door Imogene drooling on his shoulder.

He couldn’t have been surprised when the door revealed a tall burly man he recognised in the shame filled pits of his stomach, gut churning as Owen at 6 foot and 2 inches felt about 3 feet tall. ‘Sir.’ He nodded to the man in front of him, not quite meeting his eyes. Owen had never had a problem with respecting authority until he met Abe Dearing. The trouble was, if the authority didn’t respect him he couldn’t reflect it. Owen had given Abe plenty of reasons to hate him now but when they first met his slate was clean and Claire’s father’s only problem was that he felt Owen wasn’t good enough for his little girl.

‘What’re you doing here?’ Abe half growled, eyes catching his granddaughter on Owen’s hip. ‘Claire-Bear!’ He pushed past Owen, holding a whole two inches above him in height allowing himself in as he sought out his daughter.

‘Daddy?’ She was there in a second flat, eyes wide and surprised. ‘I didn’t know you were coming?’

He grunted, distracted now. ‘What’s going on with this asshole? Why are you here?’ He turned back to Owen glare hard and piercing as Owen tried to stand his ground in a house that wasn’t his. He had no excuse. Nothing to say to the man whose daughter he abandoned.

Claire shook her head, sliding between the two of them with her hand firm on her father’s chest. ‘You don’t get to ask him those questions.’

‘Sure, I do.’ Abe nodded with a grunt, glaring at Owen over Claire’s head. ‘He got you pregnant and decided he didn’t want nothing to do with you. I’ll ask him all the damn questions I want, Claire.’ His voice was rough, harsh, snarling a little like the man couldn’t help it. So much rage was rushing through his system it was bound to come flying out in the wrong directions. ‘I shoulda brought you into the station a long time ago, boy. Made you answer for what you put my girl through.’ Owen nodded. He should have. Would have sobered him up quicker. There would have been nothing like a few threats from Abe Dearing to set Owen on the straight and narrow. He couldn’t quite understand why Abraham Dearing didn’t follow through with all his threats when he had the chance.

Owen could still remember the night he turned up on the stoop of his trailer, eyes blazing and fists rolled. Abe was a scary man, worn by his days as a police sheriff and being a single father to two little girls. He was rough from an upbringing Owen didn’t know but could only suspect. Claire never talked about how her daddy had raised her, always spoke about him with a mix of fear and respect like he had done some things he shouldn’t have but she forgave him anyway.

He was pretty sure it was the end of days when that fatherly anguish showed up in front of him, ready to shoot and kill. Owen was near ready to beg as the older man rushed him, pinning him against the side of his trailer in the dark, nothing but firelight illuminating them.

When Abe threw the first punch Owen felt relief slide through him, his body going weak as accepted blow after blow until his face was numb. Abe still had a hold of his shirt, forcing Owen to stand upright as his tight grip started to shake.

‘I won’t kill you, Owen Grady.’ Abe spat, anger vibrating through his voice. ‘That would upset my baby and despite her better judgement she still loves you.’ He let him go with a shove, Owen’s body colliding with the Airstream. He collapsed into a pile of weary bones, watching as Claire’s father walked away from him leaving the blood to drip down his face like he had let Claire’s heart crack.

The irony was he could understand every aspect of Abe’s pain and the anger he wanted to throw his way. He accepted it.

'I'm not proud of what I did.’ Owen stepped up to the plate, unwilling to have Claire defend him nor have Abe beat him down, not now. That ship had sailed. How could he show himself as genuine in front of this man? If the tables were turned Owen would not have be forgiving no matter the story or a thousand apologies. He would want the other man in the ground.

‘I think you should go.’ Abe instructed, trying to lean around his daughter to take Imogene from Owen’s hip.

Claire only pushed her back against Owen’s chest as she tilted her chin to look into her father’s eyes. ‘Stop.’ Her voice was firm. He had raised her like this. Be strong, stand your ground, get up and fight. ‘He owed me an explanation and I got one, this isn’t about you.’ He wanted to protect her heart, had done since the day she was born. She knew, the second she got in her car and headed for her father’s place that there was no going back. Once Claire told him she was distraught and why he would never back down.

That want to protect only increased tenfold when she sat on her father’s couch helpless, pregnant and unable to stop her tears.

Owen stood still like a hunted animal thinking the lack of movement would make him invisible. Claire and Abe stared each other down, toe to toe as Imogene squawked in her father’s arms, making noises at herself with flying arms. He couldn’t see Claire’s face, only the hard lines on Abe’s, watching them soften after a minute, man stepping back.

‘Fine.’ He told them, tension fading away. ‘But, I don’t like this.’ Owen nodded. Never expected him to. ‘You hurt my girl again and you’re a dead man.’ Abe warned, Owen expected nothing less. The man was county police sheriff, had been for years. He had the trust of his men to help him get rid of Owen without anyone so much as batting an eyelash.

‘Do you want to stay for dinner?’ Claire asked, anger gone from her voice.

Abe nodded and Owen was sure it was just to spite him. Leaving the two of them to glare over dinner plates in a silent testosterone filled standoff. Owen smiled, readjusting his grip on Imogene s he excused himself to continue the meal he had been cooking.

[…]

They had been home from the island for a week. Owen now a regular visitor to Claire’s home, his truck a familiar sight parked on the street. In the space of a few days, Imogene had grown attached, refusing to let him go until she was caught in the pits of a deep sleep. Only then could Owen untangle himself from the little girl and her death grip on his clothes.

He didn’t mind. It gave him extra time with the girl and usually an extended invitation to sit on Claire’s couch while she wound down with an episode of  _My Next Guest Needs No Introduction_. He missed those moments, Claire always filling his head with new information as they sat quietly, idly chatting here and there with a glass of wine in hand dressed for bed.

Owen had rocked Imogene to sleep while Claire disappeared to have a shower, taking the opportunity with the presence of another adult to watch her child. He’d put the baby to bed ten minutes ago, monitor sitting on the coffee table Owen ready to hear her cry. He was sitting on the couch, notebook in his lap, property brochures by his hip.

He had the house surveyed yesterday. Owen was looking at hiring labourers to do the harder parts of the work that needed to be done on the house he was trying to build. He had a daughter now. He wanted it to be ready for her. It didn’t help that he also wanted to spend all his free time with her too.

‘Hey, Owen.’ Claire’s voice pulled his attention from the hallway. He raised his head, finding her standing there in a towel, wet hair sitting behind her shoulders, expression nervous enough to pique his interest. ‘You’d tell me the truth, wouldn’t you?’ She asked, hands fidgeting.

‘Yeah?’ Owen watched her, concern dipping in his brow.

Claire nodded, taking two steps towards him before taking one back. He watched her hesitate, fear climbing up his spine. Had Karen said something to her? Sent a message while Claire was in the bathroom. It took a minute and then the deep green towel was on the floor at her feet Claire standing in front of him without a stitch of clothing on her body. ‘Do you still find me attractive?’ She asked so quietly his heart shattered into a million pieces.

He felt his heart stop and his breathing cease. Claire Dearing was standing in front of him naked asking if he still found her attractive. All he could do was gape, words forming themselves in his mind but not coming out. He couldn’t even think straight, blindsided completely by her actions that every inch of him was short wiring.

She had changed, not by much but there was a change there. Her body fuller than he remembered, hips and breasts in a way that made his cock twitch. He just couldn’t form the words to tell her she was beautiful, as always, maybe even better than before. Instead, he was silent. ‘Oh my god, I shouldn’t have — I’m sorry. Ignore me.’ She bent, picking up the towel and wrapping it around herself again as Claire turned and tried to retreat back up the hallway. ‘I’m just being stupid.’

Owen stopped her, jumping up from his place on the couch. ‘Claire, stop.’ He reached for her, fingers grazing her wrist as she stopped and turned back to him eyes wide and blue. He watched her, their faces inches apart, hands clenched by his side so he didn’t touch her without permission. ‘You’re not stupid.’ He told her, shaking his head as he gently pulled on the towel silently asking if he had permission to remove it. Her nod was small, grip relaxing as the cotton fell a second time.

His hands were tentative, flighty, unsure as they ghosted her body, hovering but not touching, mapping out every curve. She flinched when he finally pressed his palm to her hip, sliding it up her ribs, his calloused hand on her soft skin. He had missed the way she felt like silk, too good for him in every way as his other hand rose to cup her breast, heavy and full in his palm. He kneaded her skin with both hands, feeling the tug and pull of her body as Claire took a small step towards him not quite making their bodies flush. His thumb flicked over her nipple, making her gasp the sound sharp in his ears, shooting directly to his groin.

‘God, you’re beautiful.’ He told her, breathless and in awe like it was their first time all over again. 'You don’t seriously think there’s something wrong with your body, do you?’ He asked, brow crinkled with concern.

Claire nodded, bottom lip wobbling. ‘I had a baby.’ Her body stretched and swelled, it changed here and there and became almost unrecognisable to her. Since Imogene’s birth, she hadn’t felt like she got her body back.

‘Which makes you even better.’ Owen insisted, hands falling from her skin. ‘Claire, you made another living breathing person … with your body. That’s fucking amazing. You’re incredible.’ She wrapped her arms around her middle slowly, one palm sitting across her stomach. She didn’t feel it and although she could fit back into most of the clothing she was wearing pre-pregnancy she just didn’t feel the same. Didn’t feel attractive, wanted, desired. There was no one there to tell her so, no Owen slipping into the shower or nibbling kisses down her neck while she unloaded the groceries. It was just Claire and Imogene, the baby didn’t care about her body, couldn’t protest or disagree unless she was no longer being breastfed.

He felt brave when he took one of her hands by the wrist to guide her fingers over the bulge in his jeans. He wasn’t fully erect but the arousal was there, Claire’s eyes turning dark as she looked up at him not protesting what he had done. Her fingers squeezed, playful, the old Claire who would tease him to no end.

‘What do you find the most attractive?’ She asked, never making anything easy on him. But there she was, bearing all her insecurities and asking him to make them better. If he could put a balm on the last two years to fix it all, this was where he would start.

Owen turned her, pulling Claire by the hand as her torso twists. He gave her a swift smack on her rear, self-satisfied smirk firmly in place on his cheeks. ‘Still a great ass.’ He grinned at her, Claire rolling her eyes, small flutter of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Without instruction or askance, Owen lowered himself to his knees, kneeling in front of her like he was ready to pray. Instead, his hands wandered, touch light on her legs wrapping around her calves and up her inner thighs. His touch was sparse, just grazing her skin as Claire spread her legs a little, allowing his touch to climb higher her. Her muscles fluttered, Owen grinning as he looked up at her, making sure she was feeling what he was, enjoying it not hiding away and hating herself internally. He loved that spot, where her skin was it’s softest and sensitive enough to make her shiver. He told her as much, leaning in to press his lips to the inside of her thigh.

‘Bedroom?’ She asked, breathless. Owen looked up at her with dark green eyes and an easy nod. He followed her, their steps barely there on the floor as the hallway stretched before them seemingly longer than it ever had been.

In her bedroom, he moved for her, large hands sliding over her hips, taking hold as he pulled her close to him. ‘Great hips.’ He told her, his kiss on her lips so faint Claire felt like she was dreaming. She chased his mouth when he pulled away, deepening their kiss with heavy longing. ‘And this,’ Owen told her, foreheads pressed together. ‘Is my personal favourite.’ She held her breath, focusing on the feel of his hands and both palms slid up her sides, nestling themselves between her ribs before she felt his fingertips start to dance across her skin.

He was tickling her. Easy peels of laughter burst from her throat as the action took her by surprise, Claire wriggling against his hold, unable to escape. There was something about that sound, so pure, so free that he was addicted to it, Claire laughing uncontrolled. It was what he lived for. Her laughter and Imogene’s. He needed to know she was capable of it, scared this insecurity with her body was getting in the way of her happiness. He didn’t stop until she was wheezing, pleading for mercy as she pulled away from him and crawled into the centre of her bed. He climbed in on top of her, hands braced on either side of her arms as he lent down to kiss her.

‘You’re perfect.’ He told her, kissing the tip of her nose before he started a descent on her body, lips peppering kisses across her body, reacquainting with the body he had once loved, still familiar with it like the back of his hand only with a few minor, topical changes.

Claire had moved her hands, the both of them locked over her pubic bone, refusing to budge when Owen tried to pry them away. He looked up at her, confusion swimming in his eyes as Claire took one deep breath and pulled her hands away. The scar was only four inches long and still faintly pink, he had missed it earlier, despite being so close. Too focused on her thighs to look up a little higher.

‘I had to have an emergency c-section.’ She told him quietly, fingers drifting over the scar again at his chest ached. The look on her face was broken, Claire’s eyes elsewhere like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Owen nudged her hands away, his lips finding the thin scar as he kissed it softly. There was a need in his chest to make this right, every part of him screaming that he was a terrible person for not being there.

Karen had called him that night. Had begged that he talk to Claire and calm her down, his guilt only surged. She was scared for the life of her baby, for the incision. Claire and hospitals had never been a good mix, he should have known to swallow his own issues just to calm her for a minute.

He climbed back up her body to kiss her, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say with just a touch of their lips. She seemed satisfied, arching into him as her arms wound around his neck and her tongue slipped its way into his mouth. They were like that for a few moments, Owen unable to stop kissing her, unwilling to break away from her embrace until Claire’s hands trailed down his back to pull at his shirt.

He left her pull it off him as he moved down her body again, this time stopping for nothing as he kissed her scar and rubbed his cheek against the soft curls that sat below it. Owen wasted no time in burying himself against her sex, happily sliding his tongue across the most sensitive part of her as Claire dug both hands into his hair. He lapped at her, taking his time with calculated strokes, listening to her pant and sigh in pleasure, her hands pulling and releasing with every inhale. She was like a cat kneading a blanket, fingers curling and uncurling against her scalp until he had her moans exactly how he liked them. They twisted from her throat, like curlicues across a page, her back arching up off the bed in a splendid show of her spine. He had slipped a hand from her thigh to run up her ribs, fingers dipped against her vertebrae ensuring she remained like that until her orgasm snapped, breaking across his tongue as her spine collapsed against his hand. She shouted, moan on her lips that saw it’s exit louder than the others, her fingers tight in his hair.

He stroked her hip as he lapped at her sex, easing Claire down from her high with a grin on his lips. ‘You alright, baby?’ He asked, fond lilt to his voice as he sat up and peered over her.

Claire nodded, eyes closed, chest heaving. He hadn’t made her break like that in a long time. It felt good, to sit there between her thighs again, making her fall apart with the touch of his tongue as she pleaded for more. Sometimes he couldn’t understand why he left her.

Her hand found his thigh, squeezing the muscle there. ‘You’re wearing too much.’ She whined, sitting up slowly, an easy grin across her lips. ‘I want your dick.’ She told him, smile increasing when she caught his shiver. Claire was never so crass. ‘Or are you going to make me get it myself?’ She inched towards him, to fingers walking up his thigh until they hit his belt, Owen’s hand wrapping around her wrist, stopping her.

Owen climbed off the bed, undoing his belt slowly before he dropped it to the floor. He snapped the button on his jeans, yanking it out of the loop as Claire crept towards the edge of the mattress, her fingers curling between his skin and the waist of his paints. She leant forward, kissing his hip bone where the firm plans of his stomach started to narrow towards his crotch. She used to play this game, pepper kisses across his stomach after a night out, leaving red lipstick across his skin with a wicked little grin. Now, Claire only looked up at him through thick lashes, knowing exactly where his mind was at. His erection sprung free when he pushed his pants down, briefs going with them, the thick heat of his arousal tapping Claire under her chin. She didn’t even flinch, just licked her lips and pulled back.

He watched her admire him, her eyes chasing over his skin, remembering the feel of it, the stretch of it within her, the feel of it against the back of her throat. Owen didn’t do anything, just let Claire take her time as he saw a hand dip between her legs before she leant forward to wrap her lips around the tip of him. She sucked, applying pressure as her hand wrapped around his base finding rhythm with short and sharp strokes.

He had closed his eyes, caught in the feeling of her hot mouth around him where he had missed her body, heart and soul. Owen could hear the small gagging sounds she made as she tried to take more of him into her mouth, her head bobbing without hesitation. He just about felt his eyes roll into the back of his head. There was no way Owen Grady was going to last as long as he thought. It had been too long since they last did this. No one held a torch to Claire Dearing and he was starting to remember why.

Gently, he slid a hand over the side of her head, collecting her damp hair in his fingers as he gave her a warning tug. ‘I’m not … I need … In you. Now.’ He growled the only words he could get out, Claire understanding as she pulled away, mouth making an easy  _pop_  as his dick slid out of her mouth.

She stood on her knees, kissing him with fervour as Owen wrapped his arms around her, hands caressing her skin, lowering them both until her back was flush with the bed, Owen hovering over her once again. He waited for a beat, not confident she was ready until Claire whined with impatience, her hips lifting to meet his hot skin. He moved, pushing into her slowly as he felt her fingers tighten on his wrist, her eyes squeezing shut as her lips parted. Unusually, he was a little too big for her, circumference stretching Claire a little wider than her body was comfortable with. For the most part, she was fine, hardly felt the discomfort but it had been a while and he wasn’t confident her body would remember him after a two year absence. He waited for a hiss, a yelp, a plea to stop but instead received a needy little mewl that trickled out of her. Her eyes opened, only for Owen to watch them roll into the back of her head, satisfied smile on her face.

He knew the feeling. Had missed it in the time they had been apart and was sure he would sell his soul to have it back again. It warmed him beyond doubt to see Claire in the throws, second orgasm building all at his touch.

Claire’s lip curled, teeth sinking into the tissue as Owen pulled his hips back. Her whine of protest was enough to light a fire in his heart, setting his body aflame with every good feeling he’d ever had about her. This was it. This was why he had been ruined for others. Claire needed him so spectacularly nothing else could ever compare to her whines and whimpers or the feel of her body embracing his like they had spent an unintentional lifetime apart.

He kissed her cheek fondly, lips sliding to the pulse point behind her ear. His pace was easy, rocking back into her with a steady rhythm, catching her sigh once again like every movement he made was tailored exactly for that sound.

Her grip on his wrist settled, fingers loosening on their hold as her body adjusted, relaxing around his girth. Her lips chased his, kiss soft, a little sloppy as her skin lingered against his, her hand finding his back as her nails dug down.

She rocked her hips when his pace wasn’t enough. Owen grinned, always happy to take a demanding hint. Claire’s pants and moans grew louder as his pace started to pick up. Owen worried about the volume, well aware that the baby was asleep down the hall as she cried out.

He loved her unabashed, out of control and giving to him wholly. There was something about Claire arched into him, eyes hooded and still rolling. No one let go like Claire Dearing did. No one gave themselves as completely as her, or enjoyed the ride on his dick as gratefully as the woman below him.

[…]

She woke to the smell of pancakes wafting through her house. It elevated Claire’s sense of panic when she noticed the bed was empty bar her body. In all other instances she would have thought he’d left again, picking up in the night and slipping off.

Claire found Owen in the kitchen, cooking the pancakes she could smell with a bright grin on his face, some bright coloured kids program playing across the TV and barely catching Imogene’s attention. He had set her up in her high chair, keeping her nearby and unable to crawl off with pancakes on her tray greedily being shoved into her face by chubby little fingers.

‘Morning,’ she breathed, chest practically bursting at the sight of them. Owen grinned back, offering Claire a plate as she pulled up a barstool across from him. ‘What’s the occasion?’ She asked, shy smile tugging at her warm cheeks.

Owen shrugged. ‘No reason.’ They both knew it had something to do with the events of the previous night, their grins wide and toothy. She pushed her palms against the counter leaning over to kiss him as Owen met her in the middle.

‘I’m worried about Zia and Franklin.’ She reached for the condiments, surprising Owen when she selected the maple syrup. Claire could sense he was tense. The last thing he wanted to be thinking about was dinosaurs and her DPG lackeys.

Owen shrugged, ‘They’re probably helping out at the sanctuary. I’m sure there’s plenty to do.’

Claire shook her head, ‘No, they would have checked in with me … or called the DPG office. No one has heard from them.’ She was concerned for her team. Wheatley had left them to die there was no promise once Claire traded her coworkers for safety that they themselves would be save. ‘I want to go see Benjamin Lockwood. He’s reasonable. Kind. He’ll want to know about this, and will get us in contact with the sanctuary.’

‘No.’ Owen told her.

‘We’re not talking about dinosaurs anymore, Owen. Franklin and Zia haven't done anything wrong.  They were trying to help  _us_  to help Blue as well. We can’t just sit here.’ She hadn’t meant to bang her hands against the counter but the rage bubbled in her. He wanted to turn his back on the island and stop thinking about it. Claire could understand that. But this was Franklin and Zia, human, innocent in all of this. ‘It’s not far from here.’ She told him, decision already made. ‘I’ll get Karen to watch the baby.’

‘What if it’s not safe?’ He asked, eyes on Imogene like he couldn’t bring himself to leave her if a risk was involved.

Claire rolled her eyes. ‘He lives in a manor just outside of the city. What’s dangerous about that?’ She had gone out there before, when Lockwood and Mills first recruited her in aid to her cause. It was a manor on beautiful grounds that housed an old man and his granddaughter. It was where Jurassic Park first began as an idea, the DNA pulled from amber in the basement below. They had played God there and nothing more. Now it stood as a museum and a home. ‘I’m going.’ She told him quietly, trying to add a strength to her voice that always faltered when he was upset with her. ‘I started this, Owen. I brought them into this. I need to know they’re okay.’

[…]

Lockwood Manor gave him chills the second they arrived.

He went with her because there was no point staying home. They waited for Karen to pick Imogene up. Gave their girl a kiss each and climbed in the car with a promise to be back in a few hours. When Claire’s care rolled across the gravel driveway he knew they weren’t going to be back home for a while. There was a truck parked out the front, like the ones they had been using on the island. Claire stopped the car, watching as the driver climbed out and went to the back of the truck.

It took a few minutes before the truck bed was pulled open, a ramp sliding from it as the man climbed in and returned seconds later with a baby triceratops attached to a leach. Owen felt Claire’s gasp before he heard it, her whole body tense beside his.

‘They’re at a sanctuary.’ Claire told him, turning wide eyes in his direction as his heart sank. Owen wasn’t convinced that was the case anymore. ‘Maybe it’s sick? Maybe they’re trying to pull in investors?’ She was grasping at straws, anything that was remotely possible to explain why a baby triceratops was being pulled across a gravel driveway outside of San Francisco.

‘We need to go.’ If what she thought was happening, wasn’t happening and there were dinosaurs on this property they were bound to be in a lot more trouble than they initially thought.

She whimpered, the sound unconfined as Claire shifted the car into reverse Owen’s panic feeding into hers. They couldn’t go anywhere. There was another truck behind them, pulled up in the few minutes they sat watching, enough for the occupants to get out and stand by their windows, guns in hand.

[…]

‘It was all a lie.’ Claire was trying not to cry, bottom lip rolling as Owen caught the red of her eyes. ‘There is no sanctuary.’ They were sitting in a cell, one among many surrounded by the dinosaurs they had pulled off the island. A Triceratops and it’s child sat in the cell across from them, drugged out of their minds as Claire stared, unable to look away. ‘How could I be so stupid?’ She dropped her head against the wall, sitting with her knees up on the floor of a cell intended for drugged prehistoric beasts.

Owen shook his head, sitting across from her, back pressed against cold brick. ‘This isn't your fault, Claire.’ There was a small part of him that hated the need for this conversation again. He didn’t know how many times he had to tell her that Jurassic World’s destruction was not her fault. Claire took it on board anyway, told him that someone had to take the blame and she considered herself strong enough to carry the weight of the dead.

This wasn't her fault. She tried so hard to do good, it was unjust to point the blame in her direction.

‘Claire …’ came a voice through the bars. Claire lifted her head slowly, Owen crushed by her defeat. ‘You have to let me apologise.’ Eli Mills stood on the other side of their cell, one hand in the pocket of his suit pants. ‘I had no intention of bringing you into this. He insisted we have the raptor …’

She didn’t know what it was that pushed through her legs and propelled herself at him. Owen caught her, wide arm wrapped around her middle stopping her before anything more than her boots could hit the metal of the bars.

He. Lockwood or Wheatley. She didn’t care. Neither of those men were calling the shots and that was becoming incredibly clear to her. It was Mills, operating as a rogue, misusing the trust Benjamin Lockwood had bestowed in him.

‘So this is it, huh?’ Owen let go of Claire, keeping a careful eye on her, unsure the wild animal that beat in her chest wasn’t done yet. He had spoken to this man on the phone, sensed the scales of his skin as he tried to politely manipulate Owen into his retrieval mission. Claire said they needed her, but they didn’t need both. It was only because he said no in the first place that Mills turned to recruiting her. ‘You’re a smart guy. You could probably start a foundation. Cure cancer. But instead you, what? Sell endangered species?’ They saw what was happening, understood as large men gripped Claire too tight and forced her to walk ahead of him. Once they were under capture they were all too happy to share the secrets of Lockwood Manor.

Eli Mills was holding an auction to all those with money enough to play. There was no sanctuary, not under his watch.

He shook his head, slimy smirk slipping across his cheeks. ‘Those animals were going to die,’ Mills countered. ‘I saved their lives.’ He was calm, collected, his words rehearsed.

Claire was barely keeping her cool and Owen could see it. He didn’t want to undermine her, restrain her again when they were already captive. ‘You betrayed a dying man!’ Her voice rose, minds wondering where exactly Benjamin Lockwood was within the walls of his home. Maybe it was worse than she thought. Naively, Claire believed the sanctuary still existed and that Mills had taken advantage of sickly Lockwood, using his illness to go behind his back and redirect the boats. But surely the older man had noticed the trucks on his property. ‘For money!’ She added, knowing this game all too well. Get rich by any means possible. She had worked with these men in the past a small part of herself at war. Claire felt she should have seen this coming.

Mills was cold when he stepped towards the bars, expressionless when his mouth opened ready to sink a final blow, his teeth to her jugular. ‘I admire your idealism, Claire. But we both exploited these creatures. At least I have the integrity to admit it.’

She startled, expression on her face recoiling as her body remained still. ‘I’ve never —‘

‘You authorised the creation of the Indominus Rex,’ Mills snapped, cutting her off. She felt her cheeks pink. The file had come across her desk and in a bit to boost their summer numbers Claire agreed but the project wasn’t as black and white as Mills wanted it to seem. She didn’t understand the monster they were making. She didn’t know it’s genetic make-up, was just told to look pretty and sign the paperwork if she wanted to see herself through another successful year. ‘You sold a living thing, in a cage, for money. Park fares no doubt. How is that any different? Exploiting those creatures for gaudy merchandise with tacky sound and light shows.’ He left her standing there, hands limp by her sides before he turned, facing Owen. ‘And you. The man who proved raptors can follow orders. You never thought about the applications of your research? Did you ever stop to think how many millions someone would pay for a  _trained predator_? You two … you’re the parents of the new world.’

She moved before he could react, Owen standing his ground with Mills as Claire slid her arm through the bars, fist rolled and aimed right for Mills’ jaw. She hit him, right on target, man stumbling back as his hand rubbed across his chin, lip already bleeding. If they weren’t contained, Owen might have taken a minute to be proud of her.

‘How do you want this to end?’ Wheatley appeared out of the shadows, sinister tick tense in his jaw.

Mills glared at him. ‘They were supposed to be burned up on Isla Nublar,’ he huffed. ‘Leave them here.’ He started walking away. ‘By sunrise they’ll have the place to themselves.’  

[…]

Mills left an hour ago. Leaving Claire to stare off at the Triceratops and it’s mother, tears wet on her cheeks. She wanted to go home. Owen had questioned whether this was safe or not to come out here and once again Claire felt like she should have listened to him.

Her hand ached from it’s collision with Mills’ face. There was a heavy feeling behind her eyes, dragging all the way down to the pits of her stomach. A mix of dread and guilt, of compassion for these animals and absolute loathing for herself. She wanted her daughter in her arms and shivered every time she realise Mills wanted them dead on the island and that Wheatley had only let them go by chance. She might not have seen Imogene again. Owen would never have met her.

And now, she feared the worst again.

Where was Benjamin Lockwood while Eli Mills was running a black auction in his basement? Where was Maisie, his granddaughter she had met on a few occasions back when the park was running and the girl was little. Claire knew she was there. Knew what happened to Vanessa and Hugh. Not only that. She saw Maisie in the library a few weeks ago whilst Mills’ used charm to recruit her into recruiting Owen. Was the girl alone? Had Mills hurt her?

‘I showed them the way.’ His voice was quiet, almost bouncing off the walls as Claire lifted her head, watching Owen take his Swiss Army Knife to the lock. He had ceased in his movements, dumbfounded for a minute as she watched him collect his thoughts. ‘I knew IBRIS was the wrong idea.’ He shook his head. ‘It was too  _cool_  to be true. They weren’t just training raptors for the hell of it and I knew the whole time. I just let blind faith lead me. Thought they couldn’t all be that  _idiotic.’_ Then he met Vic Hoskins and the insufferable Dr Henry Wu who saw himself above all others. It was his science that got the park to where it was, his brilliance and craftsmanship. If Owen was being honest he thought Simon Masrani blew up his own ass too much to be normal. Of course the other man had an inflated sense of ego.

He just needed her to stop thinking it was her fault. It wasn’t. No matter what paperwork she signed or what she was thinking on the day of the incident. He couldn’t blame her. She was putting on a brave face for the men who wanted to see her fall and even if he did think it was her fault, Owen still would have taken the blame upon himself.

‘Stop blaming yourself, Claire.’ He pleaded, waiting until she raised her wet eyes to his and gave him a soft sniffle. ‘I knew my research was only ever going to land itself in a dumb place. You were just trying to keep a theme park afloat. Masrani was breathing down your neck.’

She nodded, knowing that she would continue to blame herself until this whole nightmare was over. For a moment, she understood Owen’s ‘let them die’ stance and wished she could have been in the frame of mind to agree with him. It wasn’t that simple.

‘Do you remember the first time you saw a dinosaur?’ Her eyes were on the Triceratops again, dreamily watching the baby sit under it’s mother’s chin. She had been nineteen, interning for Masrani Global, trial running the first stages of a park that would one day be mostly under her control. 'The first time you see them it’s like a miracle. You’ve read about them in books and seen their bones in museums, but they’re still like myths. You don’t really believe they could have existed. And then you see your first one alive, moving, looking back at you. It’s breathtaking. I just wanted to help bring that feeling to more people. I want Imogene to know what that was like. I never —-‘

‘I know.’ Owen nodded, head down. ‘It’s not your fault.’ He told her again, the words a prayer.

‘But it is.’ She pleaded with him. Owen only shook his head. He didn’t want to engage in that self-hatred.

She let the quiet sit. The two of them listening to the tick of his watch and the deep breathing of the large animals around them.

‘Would you have come if it weren’t me asking?’ She already knew the answer. In part. Mills had called him before he called Claire and Owen gave him a stern no. But, when it was Claire sitting across from him in a bar he frequently thought about her in. It was hard to say no and walk away. He did anyway but eventually, the thought of her out there alone had pushed him to come back.

She had a daughter to go home to.

‘We’ll talk about it later.’ He returned to fiddling with the lock. They would have plenty of time to talk about it when Imogene was asleep, the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table as he tried to show Claire a wide variety of kitchen layouts he could fit in the space he assigned.

Claire sighed, the sound soft and broken. She was tired of sitting there, wondering what would happen next. If Immi was okay with Karen or if her daughter had sensed something was wrong. ‘If there  _is_  a later.’ What if they were left to die here?

‘There will be,’ Owen said confidently. ‘I have a house to finish.’

Claire grinned, ‘Are you going to add a swing?’

‘For my Genie girl, for sure.’ His whole face lit up. ‘I can maybe make it bigger, you know, so she can grow with it.’ He winked at her, thoughts consumed by the vision of Claire and Imogene sitting on the swing mid spring, soaking up the sweet air right beside the house he built for them. He wanted here there. Living under the same roof, the two of them reconciling their differences. Her smile was small but full of hope, sweetly grinning at him like she had the exact same vision.

He needed to get them out of there.

[…]

The hard head plate of the Stygimoloch in the cell next door provided just the thing to bust through the lock. Owen whistled at her, irritating the creature until she managed to butt through the wall between their cage and then once more against the lock.

She sprinted free, not stopping for second as the dinosaurs around them whined, bodies bumping against bars trying to free themselves. Owen could feel Claire tensing beside him. She spent the last four years trying to keep these animals alive and safe and now they were in front of her and she was powerless to help them.

Owen watched Claire approach the cell housing the Triceratops and her baby, her hands pulling on the lock before she looked to Owen. ‘Can’t we do something?’ Her voice was strained, fraying at the edges as she turned large helpless eyes on him.

He shook his head. ‘We need to get out of here. Alert the authorities. They can help them.’

‘They’ll bring guns.’ Claire mentioned like Owen had no experience with scared men and guns against these beasts.

‘If it’s what has to be done, it’s what has to be done.’ He reached for her, fingers sliding around her wrist as he pulled, tearing Claire out of the large room and into a smaller hallway.

They were getting their bearings, trying to figure out what was up and what was down, which path would lead them out of there and which would send them into the mouths of danger. It was in the corridor, their steps large and assured as Owen confidently took the lead Claire silently followed that she spotted something.

‘Wait,’ she told him, arm coming across his chest as their bodies stopped moving allowing Claire to focus. She heard it, a rattle, something stuck in a small space, it’s movement causing the nose unable to stop it. There was a single slot in the wall, the door of a dumbwaiter against panels of nothingness.

Claire approached, knowing Owen was only one large step behind her. Something hoped it was a dinosaur she could save. Something, no matter how little that in the moment she could say she did her part and physically hold it. They would get the authorities and this whole thing would be shut down but Claire needed something for now. Something to tell Imogene she had done instead of just running from it all.

She yanked on the door, pulling it back with a soft grunt as the contents cried out, a startled scream that ended when she realised those who found her were not Eli’s men. ‘Maisie?’ Claire said, ‘Lockwood’s granddaughter’. She informed Owen, small relief settling in her chest to know the answer to one of her few questions about the owners and heirs of the manor.

‘Hey there,’ Owen approached slowly, ‘Looks like you could use a friend. Do you want to come out?’ He extended a non threatening hand for the girl to take if she wished. She only shook her head, arms wrapping around her legs tighter, happy to stay in her enclosed space where the walls pressed around her making her feel safe.

‘My name’s Claire, do you remember me?’ She had seen that girl every year since she was born, her grandfather or her parents bringing her to Jurassic World, expecting — and receiving — exclusive tours of the island and it’s new projects. Claire had always been the one to take them, shamelessly told by Simon to shake their pockets loose and earn the park a nice donation. The last time she saw Maisie Lockwood at Jurassic World had been 2015 before the incident. The girl then had only been four. She had to be nine-years-old now, curled in the shelf of the dumbwaiter. ‘And this is Owen.’ She introduced, stepping back so the girl could see him again.

Maisie nodded, she already knew his name. ‘I saw you in a video with baby velociraptors.’

The look on his face was one of elation, Owen’s expression bright as he stared at the girl. ‘You like dinosaurs?’ He tried to play it cool while Claire stifled a small laugh. Maisie nodded. ‘Why don’t you come out and I’ll tell you about my girl Blue.’ It did the trick, Maisie carefully climbed out of her hiding place, hand extended to receive Owen’s earlier offer of help as he quickly put his large palm under her little one. ‘Wow,’ Owen whistled, inspecting the the dumbwaiter after the girl had vacated it. ‘You made it all the way down here. You must be pretty brave.’

It was a small win, but the little smile Maisie gave Owen was everything. He grinned back, proud of this little girl not knowing the trauma she had been through. Claire was beside her, protective instinct flaring in her gut along with a need to mother as she pushed Maisie’s hair out of her eyes and straightened the red jumper she wore.

‘We need to find your grandfather. Can you take us to him?’ Claire asked, knowing that they could flee the property and get help or they could alert Benjamin Lockwood himself.

Maisie stilled, body frozen for a moment before she flung herself at Owen, her grip tight around his waist as he lowered hesitant hands over her shoulders. Imogene was one thing. His daughter was a baby with no real expectations of him. She needed to be held. Fed. Played with. Owen guessed Maisie was no different. He squeezed her, trying for reassuring. ‘We got you. Don’t worry, we got you.’ He told her, large hand running over her back knocking at her long brown pony tail with the beginning of each new rub. He turned curious eyes towards Claire who had been watching them silently. ‘We need to get out of here.’

‘Zia and Franklin.’ She told him, sure her coworkers weren’t far away.

Begrudgingly, he nodded. ‘Okay, how about we find out friends and we get out of here?’ He asked Maisie, putting the decision in her hands, not confident on which road she would want to take. The girl nodded, agreeing to the search for strangers stuck in her home.

[…]

Owen could hear the auction taking place. The call of a price as the gavel hit the sound block, signifying a sale. He could hear the whine of a creature in a cage, still lucid and barely there. It was Maisie who led them to a small grate, crouching between the two adults who peered through the gaps into the room below. It was filled with men, too many power hungry and egotistical minds in one room desperate for something that no single man should own.

He was angry, fingers curled into a tight fist as the men below seemed to be sitting bored, not entertained by the majesty in front of them. Mills, standing at the podium with another man seemed to sense the growing tension in the room, some bodies seemingly ready to get up and leave.

‘And now, a special treat for the truly discriminating buyer!’ The man beside Mills announced, conducting the whole auction with a loud and commanding voice. ‘We’d like to preview a new asset we have been developing. We call it … the Indoraptor.’ The room fell quiet, enough that in their hiding place Owen could hear the ding of an elevator and the click of the mechanisms making the trolley system work.

It wasn’t long before a cage rolled out onto the floor in the centre of the room back lit to show only a silhouette of this new dinosaur genetically modified from the ones before it. A lull came over the room, voices starting to talk as a few gasped, fear settling among men.

‘The perfect weapon for the modern age,’ the auctioneer continued. ‘Built for combat with tactical responses more acute than any human soldier.’

The cage move, rolling into full light as excitement finally crackled over the group like thunder snapping in the clouds above. Inside the cage, the Indoraptor paced back and forth caged animal unhappy about the show it was forced to put on.

‘What is that thing?’ Claire asked, shiver chasing down her spine as she watched the black scales of the beast. Dinosaurs, on the worst of days unnerved her, the idea of prehistoric still walking among man unsettling her as unnatural and mostly disgusting. They were like untrained dogs, dirty and foul, some slimy while others were too dangerous to approach. This thing caused a response, the fear receptors in her brain ready to run.

‘They made it,’ Maisie told her. ‘Mr. Mills and the other man.’

‘What other man?’ Owen asked, turning his head away from the spectacle to look at the girl crouched between himself and Claire, her little hand grasping his as the other pointed into the room below. Their eyes followed her finger finally spotting Claire’s former employee, Dr. Henry Wu standing back from Mills and his auctioneer with a disapproving sneer.

In its cage, the Indoraptor hissed. The crowd were enamoured, voices trading from one to the next as their excitement rose. ‘Designed by Mr. Henry Wu, the Indoraptor has an intelligence quotient comparable to the  _Velociraptor_. Bio specs include echolocation and a heightened sense of smell.’ They watched as the auctioneer nodded to someone, a guard with a rifle stepping forward. ‘The Indoraptor had been trained to respond to a pulse-coded laser targeting system,’ He continued, ‘allowing it to isolate and track prey in complex environments …’

The guard raised his rifle and flicked on its targeting laser. He focused the beam of light on another man sitting amongst the group. The Indoraptor responded immediately, back arched and limbs tense attention drawn to the targeted man.

‘Modifications are still being made,’ the auctioneer tried to announce not managing his full statement before the targeted man called out;

‘Twenty Million!’

‘Stay here.’ Owen hissed, starting to pull away from Claire and Maisie still huddled against the grate, watching on with baited breath. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he told them.

‘What are you going to do?’ Claire asked.

Owen gave her a small shrug. ‘How should I know?’ He admitted. Sitting there, watching not only the auction take place but the sale of a beast that wasn’t safe didn’t sit well with Owen. He couldn’t keep watching like a bystander unwilling to make a move. He was the only one there capable of stopping this and it had to be done. He would be saving lives. Not only the life of the idiot who bought this creature, but also of the men he would test it on.

Maisie’s hand was still gripping his tightly, not letting him leave as Owen transferred her grip from his to Claire’s. He could see that she was frightened, her large brown eyes shaking with worry as she started at him like he had been her only hope. His heart tugged in his chest, thinking of the little girl who sat innocently at home, her aunt likely telling her that he and Claire would be home in a matter of hours. He needed to get Claire home, he needed to get himself there if he could but above all else he needed to ensure that Maisie was safe. ‘We’re not going to let anything happen to you, okay?’ He looked her in the eye, waiting for her small nod before he broke away.

[…]

It was nothing but chaos from the second he spotted the freed Stygimoloch wandering the halls on his way to end the auction and prevent the sale of the Indoraptor. He had lured the creature into the elevator, irritating her with another high whistle before the doors slid open again and let her run free amongst the men there looking for a trophy.

The whole thing blurred for him, a mix of fleeing men and a few guards who approached with the intention to capture or put Owen down. Chairs scattered about the concrete as the freed dinosaur ran rampage on her captors.

Last he checked, the Indoraptor was still in its cage, locked and secure before he left the room looking to find Claire and Maisie their destination home. It came as a surprise to him, when the Indoraptor burst through the wall, taking with him a guard ready to call their presence in to whomever was listening with two dangerous dinosaurs on the loose.

Maisie screamed, Owen hoisting her up onto his hip as they turned in the other direction, not giving the Indoraptor a chance to reorientate himself. They were moving blind through the manor once again, Owen unaware of which door led where, opening them and moving through in the hopes that they would eventually find freedom.

Instead, they found themselves in Lockwood’s library, the space a personal museum of his dinosaur collection a Triceratops skeleton taking pride of place in the middle of the room. He put Maisie on her feet, sure they were okay for now as she clung to his side not willing to step beyond the bounds of the adults who were with her.

‘How do we get out of here?’ He turned to Maisie, knowing the girl would have the answers. All she did was raise her arm, pointing to a door that belonged upstairs on the mezzanine. Owen sighed, easy. All they had to do was climb the spiral staircase and could see themselves walking out of there. He hoped, beyond hope that Claire’s car or a truck with abandoned keys would be waiting for them once they hit the manor’s exterior.

It was never as easy as that. They had only taken a few steps into the room when Owen spotted the body of a guard lying at the base of the Triceratops skeleton a rifle beside the motionless body. He signalled for Claire and Maisie to be cautious the two of them following him with slow steps.

They weren’t alone and when the Indoraptor chose to reveal herself Owen was left with no choice but to run, pushing Claire and Maisie up the stairs as the Indoraptor lunged for them, claws just missing the sole of his shoe.

The door Maisie led them to was jammed, Owen finding a light switch and submerging them in darkness in the hopes of buying himself some time with the jammed door, Swiss army knife wedged in the gap as he pleaded silently for it to open.

He could hear the sound of rain on the roof, lightning flashing in the sky above illuminating the room through the glass ceiling. He worked, small grunt falling from his lungs as he felt Claire press into his side, her hand clutched in the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades as Maisie’s heavy breathing mingled with the sound of the rain.

Her scream alerted him first, the sound of wood cracking and glass shattering as Claire’s body pushed back against his before he turned to see the Indoraptor caught inside of the diorama they were hiding behind, his efforts to catch them only causing a mess as his tail knocked one of the room’s support pillars towards them. It fell down between Claire, Owen and Maisie, the girl on one side while the adults were trapped against the wall.

‘Run!’ Claire yelled, voice cracking. ‘Get away from here!’ She told Maisie, desperate as the girl turned and did as she was told, breaking away from them and the room, disappearing out of his line of sight. His heart sunk into his stomach, weighed down by dread. He couldn’t protect her if he couldn’t see her. She was safer outside of the room while the Indoraptor still struggled in front of them, Owen trying to lift the pillar away from Claire’s body with a panicked need to get her out of here too. Maisie couldn’t have gotten far, Claire would be able to catch up.

The monster broke free first. Not paying any mind to the trapped adults, his scent caught on the little girl as he trailed after her. ‘No!’ Owen shouted, trying to whistle for the creatures attention, his hand grasping some debris and throwing it into Lockwood’s library hoping it hit something enough to make a distracting noise.

It wasn’t enough. The Indoraptor only slashed at them, large talon skating past Claire’s leg, ripping the fabric and cutting through her skin. She cried out, unable to help it as the monster chose to follow the girl rather than the easy prey it had trapped.

Owen focused his energy on removing the debris, ready for it to lift off of them so he could assess Claire properly, woman beside him trying to breathe through the pain as he periodically checked to see if she was okay.

This wasn’t how he expected their day to go when he got up that morning. In fact, he thought by now they would be back home with Imogene, baby fresh from her bath and warm in his arms making noises at herself as she gnawed on his fingers. He wasn’t supposed to be here, fearing for the life of another young girl while Claire stood beside him whimpering through a pain she shouldn’t have experienced.

He wanted to say he shouldn’t have let her come. There was no stopping Claire. He was only only glad he chose to join her, unable to forgive himself if this had occurred while he chose to stay at home.

The debris started to move, Claire dropping to the floor and sliding out of the way as she gripped at her leg, suddenly losing the strength to stand. ‘Find her.’ She told him, eyes pleading as Owen crouched with his head bowed towards her injury.

He was torn. He didn’t want to leave her. Maisie was smart and small. She could hide. But, he had promised nothing bad would happen to her. No one and no thing would harm her. He’d made the same promise to Claire years ago. Silently, where she couldn’t protest it.

‘I’m not leaving you.’ He shook his head, exhaling a deep breath. His daughter needed her mother and he had an opportunity to carry her out of here.

Claire shook her head, her hands pushing at his arm. ‘I’m fine.’ She insisted, weak legged but sure she could talk herself into pulling through. ‘Go.’ She pushed at him again. ‘She  _needs_  you.’ He was Maisie’s only hope.

[…]

Maisie was quivering in her bed when he found her. Girl evacuating herself to the only safe place she knew. Unfortunately, the Indoraptor was there too. Owen had collected the dead guards gun from the library floor, weapon heavy in his hands as he fired it, taking aim and holding steady until the weapon clicked with an empty ammunition case.

The Indoraptor hadn’t even seemed to flinch with the onslaught, Owen sure he was done for when Blue burst into the room, standing on her own two feet and well recovered from her injury. He couldn’t explain what it felt like to see her again — and with great timing! Blue provided enough of distraction that Owen was able to reach Maisie, girl sliding into his arms as he shuffled them across the room, cautious of the large creatures fighting before he pushed open the window and encouraged Maisie to climb outside.

He followed, cursing the rain and slippery tiles as they moved across the roof, trying to perch themselves in a safe position so Owen could collect himself enough to think of the next step.

Maisie’s hand was tight in his, rain falling down on them as somewhere in the distance lightning flashed. She jumped, startled as she turned her body into his Owen wanting nothing more than to pick her up again but was fearful of the roof they were standing on.

Inside, the creatures had gone quiet, worry stirring in Owen’s gut as he waited with bated breath. The Indoraptor climbed through the window, the yellow on his scales keeping the creature visible in the dark of the night.

They had nowhere to go, he and Maisie were stuck and weaponless as the creature crept towards them, slowly trying to keep its balance on the slippery roof. There was a familiar chirp before the Indoraptor squawked, Blue on his back as the dinosaurs went tumbling, claws tangled in the other as they fell through the glass ceiling of the library, shattering sound filling the air as it gave way beneath them before the crack of bone and scattering of glass bounded across the floor followed.

It fell silent. Owen couldn’t bring himself to let go of Maisie’s hand as he shuffled towards the edge, peering down into the library to see both Blue and the Indoraptor tangled and lifeless on the bones of the Triceratops skeleton, now scattered across the floor at their weight of their fall.

The elevator doors dinged open, Franklin and Zia stepping out stunned by the sight in front of them before they looked up to see Owen and Maisie standing above them.

‘You good?’ Franklin called.

‘Nah,’ Owen admitted, gut churning as he squeezed the hand of the girl beside him. ‘You?’

Franklin shook his head in return. ‘Nope.’

‘Is Claire still down there?’ He asked, throat dry, too scared to hear the answer.

‘Yes!’ She answered him herself, voice reaching his ears loud and confident as he ushered Maisie off the roof.

‘Lets get out of here.’ He told the girl, Maisie’s shoulders easing with the promise of salvation.

[…]

Passing through her room, Owen had Maisie pack a bag, filling it with anything she felt she needed before he rejoined Claire, Zia and Franklin in the library, Zia holding Claire up as she limped on a bad leg.

He waltzed towards her, Maisie’s hand no longer in his as Claire let go of Zia’s assistance just in time for Owen to slide his hands over her cheeks, lips colliding in a passionate kiss. ‘Can we go home now?’ She asked, forehead pressed to his, bottom lip wobbling. He nodded, giving her a broad grin, lips touching hers once again.

Zia and Franklin were making noise, shocked at the contact between the two who barely seemed to stand each other on the island now openly ignoring them.

‘I have keys.’ Franklin announced, shaking the keys he’d managed to find on their escape hoping they’d provide useful to a vehicle that was easy to find. ‘Lets go.’ Zia moved to follow him, Owen and Claire turning in step until he thought to look over his shoulder, Maisie standing in the library, backpack in her hand.

‘C’mon.’ Owen extended a hand for her. He wasn’t leaving that girl here.

‘Owen, we can’t.’ Claire looked at him wide eyed. Not sure of the protocol. He asked her as much. What were they supposed to do? Claire just looked at him, out of answers curious if it was kidnapping. She had no one left. Her parents died years ago and her grandfather was lying in the house somewhere, dead. Would anyone notice that she was gone? Could they take her home tonight and call the authorities in the morning? All Claire knew was that she wanted out of there. Wanted to go home to her baby and a steaming hot bath. She never wanted to think about dinosaurs ever again or the stupidity of man. She never wanted to be this naive.

He stopped, crouching in front of the girl, ‘Do you want to come with us, Maisie?’ He asked, seeking her permission despite already knowing the answer. She nodded, without second thought or hesitation Owen picked her up, carrying the girl on his hip as his other hand reached for Claire’s. ‘Let’s go home.’ He told the group, the five of them reaching the exit and breaking out into the damp night air.

Thankfully, the keys Franklin acquired worked on the first car they found a convenient SUV sitting in the driveway ready to go. Zia took the keys and climbed into the drivers seat while Franklin occupied the passenger side. Owen and Claire were all too happy to slide into the backseat, Maisie sitting between them, protected by every adult present as the tired crunched across the asphalt.

‘We’ll come back,’ Owen promised, ‘once it’s safe’. She had curled herself under Claire’s arm, the woman stroking her hair repetitively as the girl didn’t bother to look out the window at the manor she was leaving. Owen thought it was for the best, even he didn’t want to think about what had just happened here.

The car was silent, Franklin fiddling with the radio, unable to settle on a station that seemed to fit the somber and compelled mood.

‘Where are we taking you, Owen?’ She knew he had a habit to be a bit of a recluse. Had heard of him in her school days, professors widely boasting some of his behaviouralist work. He never wanted to join the ranks of scholar and educator. Zia raised an eyebrow in her rearview mirror when he told her Claire’s. ‘Not to pry,’ she continued, definitely about to pry. ‘But, you know she has a kid, right?’

Owen looked over at Claire, grin on his face. ‘They don’t know,’ he asked like he expected them too.

Zia gasped, the car veering slightly on a long stretch of an empty road. ‘Owen is Imogene’s father,’ Claire answered, smile small on her cheeks relieved to be able to say the words and know he was trying to fill the role in every way he could. Zia only managed to sputter something like she should have known or couldn’t believe it while Owen turned her out, his eyes on Claire and the girl pressed to her side. This was it. He wasn’t leaving either of them again. Imogene included.

Franklin found their phones, remembering in that moment as he handed Claire’s back to her. She asked that he call the authorities immediately and inform them of what happened at Lockwood Manor. Instead, he handed the phone to Owen, number ready to dial. He witnessed more than Franklin did.

Claire, in the interim, called her sister thankful that her phone still had a charge as Karen answered mildly panicked. It was nearing 10pm, Claire said they’d be home hours ago at the latest.

‘Are the dinosaurs going to be okay?’ Maisie asked, voice sleepy as she lifted her head to look up at Claire.

Owen was the one who answered, humming a soft ‘I think so’ confident that those he spoke to would be able to relocate the dinosaurs to Lockwood’s sanctuary. He didn’t want to promise that to the girl in the fear of her hopes being let down.

‘I’m sorry about Blue.’ She told him, Owen’s hand joining Claire’s in stroking her hair. Owen shook his head. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He would have preferred his girl to die a natural death on Isla Nublar where she was free. But, finally he could but Blue and the girls to rest no longer worrying about her wellbeing and if captivity had hindered her survival instincts.  

If he had to chose, he would have saved Maisie regardless. It wouldn’t have been an easy decision but Owen was confident that was the path he would take. This girl had so much left to live for. She was parentless now, that thought aching in the back of his mind, rattling around memories of five-year-old Owen hiding from the sheriffs department because his Mama said so.

He had faced being parentless, if only temporary but this car ride was no less the same for her as it had been for him as a boy. That unknowing until they reached their destination and were left to prove that she always had a place in his home.

[…]

‘Okay, are you ready?’ Owen asked, hand squeezing Maisie’s as she blinked her eyes open from the small sleep she managed to get on their drive. Claire’s Potrero Hill home loomed above them, warm and comforting as Owen finally felt his chest relax. They were home. It was only going to be a matter of seconds before he could set his eyes on Imogene again and finally shed the last shred of dinosaur insanity off his mind.

They needed to take this at Maisie’s pace. He had to keep reminding himself of that, watching as the girl stared at nothing until she finally fell asleep on their drive. She looked scared. Not as much fear as he had seen at Lockwood but enough that the grip she had on his hand was white knuckled. She was only nine-years-old, suddenly without a home and familial guardians. She wanted to go with them, was kindly given the choice but that didn’t mean she was free of nerves. He couldn’t quite tell what she was scared of, the unknown of a new environment? The strangeness of Claire and himself. Even the possibility of entering a home where a child already existed.

He heard Clare take in a deep breath, Maisie sitting up between them as her gaze focused on something outside of the car. When he turned, seeking out what she had seen, Owen’s reaction was all the same. Karen was on the front steps, Imogene in her arms, a bright smile on the girl’s rosey cheeks.

She should have been in bed asleep but he was going to be the last to complain upon sight of his daughter. Claire was out of the car in a heartbeat, seatbelt clacking against the interior as her door shut with a thud. He watched her hobble across the sidewalk, leg still causing her grief, until she finally had her daughter in her arms, face pressed to Imogene’s cheek. Her grip as tight as she could possibly make it as she kissed the girl’s face with fervour.

’That’s Karen and Imogene.’ Owen told Maisie, feeling Zia’s eyes on him as he turned back towards the quiet child.

‘She’s a baby.’ Maisie told him, surprised, her voice quiet and laced with sleep. Owen nodded, his smile small as he pushed at her hair like Claire had done.

‘Yeah, she is. Do you want to go meet her?’ He asked, happy to sit there for as long as it took but he was sure Zia and Franklin wanted to head for their own homes and families after the week they’d had. Owen wanted to climb out of that car, embrace his daughter as Claire had done before sitting the woman down and inspecting her wound properly. Maisie came first. She had to.

She was trembling beside him, small had still clutching his as she nodded.  

Owen helped Maisie out of the car, holding the door as she gave a small wave to Zia and Franklin, two lives she barely knew but had aided in her safety. She took Owen’s hand as she wobbled between the gutter and the car, trying to make the gap successfully. She stumbled on the pavement, righting herself with her hand still in Owens and her chin tilted up towards Claire and Imogene.

‘I can stay as long as you need.’ Karen insisted, worried eyes taking her sister in. Owen didn’t miss the way Claire was leaning into her sister, trying to shift the pressure from her leg as she clutched her daughter like a lifeline.

Imogene was crying in her arms, disgruntled little sounds that expressed themselves with pure anguish. He caught Karen telling Claire that Genie wouldn’t take her bottle and had hardly slept because of her empty tummy. Claire sighed, sound tired and defeated as she nodded towards her sister, asking if she could say only for a little while.

They could do this on their own but Claire was desperate for a shower and was sure Owen wanted one too. Maisie would need a bath to wash the rain and fear from her skin, resettling her in something fresh and clean to wear before they inevitably tucked her into bed.

‘I’ll get you some dinner.’ She smiled, eyes meeting Owens before dropping down to Maisie’s level. She was still angry at him, he could tell. There had been a whole month after Imogene was born where Karen wouldn’t let the boys come out to visit. He wasn’t sure what she had told them but when Gray appeared on his property ready to fish the boy acted like nothing had been wrong. She was mad about what he had done. Abandoning her sister who was left to play strong when she felt nothing but weak and refusing to take the only phone call Claire had outright begged for.

‘Hi Maisie.’ She crouched down to the girl’s height, smiling warmly as Claire kept a hand on her shoulder, Owen shifting to take her weight. ‘I’m Claire’s sister, Karen.’ She introduced, heart breaking for the girl in front of her and all that she had been through. Claire didn’t tell Karen much on the phone, passengers of the car all able to listen to her conversation Owen trying to focus on the person he was talking to beside her. She knew it was bad, scary, not unlike what her own sons had been subject to four years ago. She knew Maisie was coming home with them as Claire asked quietly if she could make sure the spare room was ready to be slept in. ‘Why don’t we get everyone inside?’ Karen announced, first to walk in the door while the others shuffled in behind her.

Claire sat on the sofa in the living room, weight dropping heavily as Owen watched her with concern. He wanted to take her to the hospital, have her injury properly inspected but he knew Claire wouldn’t give into that not until the morning anyway. She wanted to be home with her girl, away from the drama and complicities her life tended to fall into. He was trying to respect that.

Maisie clung to his side, hand still in his as she watched Claire and Imogene across the room.The baby grizzled at her mother, one fist pulling at the fabric of her shirt knowing exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

‘Maisie,’ Claire called for her quietly, lights in the house dim to keep the baby tired. Maisie stepped forward, choosing not to let go of Owen’s hand as he followed her steps until the girl reached the edge of the couch, her body inches from the girls knees. Claire have the cushion beside her a pat, Maisie finally letting go of Owen to climb up beside Claire, her eyes never leaving Imogene. ‘This is our daughter Imogene.’ She introduced, turning Genie to face Maisie. ‘She a bit tired and hungry so she might not be in the best mood.’ The baby grizzled, trying to twist back into her mother’s lap and proving Claire’s point that she wasn’t feeling her best.

She didn’t want Maisie to feel rejected because Imogene refused to accept her bottle or sleep until her Mama was home.

The girls watched each other, Maisie’s fingers rubbing against the blanket on the sofa. ‘I’ve never seen a baby before.’ Maisie admitted, concern etched across her features to mix with the uncertainty in her eyes. Genie just grunted, small pout on her lips as she chose to suck on her fist with small grizzles. It took a minute before the littlest squeaked, little body wobbly on the couch as she reached out to tap Maisie’s knee with a drool covered hand. Imogene pulled at Maisie, trying to drag the girl towards herself before she gave in, opting to lower her head to Maisie’s lap instead.

She rose her head, brown eyes wide and curious as Maisie looked from Claire to Owen and back to Imogene again. ‘I think she likes you.’ Owen gave Maisie a fond smile, coming to crouch beside the sofa, his hand on Claire’s thigh, careful not to touch her injured leg. ‘You can hold her, if you want.’ Imogene was old enough to sit up and support herself, there was no worry about crowding Maisie’s space trying to create the perfect hold.

Maisie nodded, taking the affirmation as she slipped her hands under Imogene’s arms to pull the girl softly into her lap. ‘She’s squishy!’ Maisie giggled, wonder on her cheeks as she looked up at the adults watching her. Owen pushing his chest out as he told the girl his daughter was just a good eater.

The baby looked up at her new sister, drool on her chin but smile on her cheeks as Maisie lifted a hand to tentatively stroke over the dirty blonde hair on Imogene’s head. ‘I like her too.’ She decided, smile soft as Imogene sat patiently in her arms. ‘Can I give her a bottle?’ Maisie asked, eagerly jumping into the idea of having a baby around and helping where possible.

Claire smiled, ‘Not tonight’. Where she wanted to encourage Imogene’s bottle intake, Claire just wanted her daughter. ‘Karen’s going to run you a bath, is that okay?’ She asked, watching Maisie’s face for any sign of fear. The girl looked nervous but nodded anyway.  

It felt strange leaving Maisie in Karen’s capable hands. They had spent the whole night keeping her safe, walking away from her, even to have a shower was a bizarre concept that almost left Claire un-showered in a want to keep an eye on their newfound child. She handed Imogene back to Karen too, not wanting to nurse her daughter while her skin was still crawling. If it had just been the two of them, she would have taken her daughter with her. Nursed Imogene under the warm spray of water. But, Claire wanted a minute alone with Owen. Just a minute and that was the only time she was going to get.

He followed her, leaving Maisie’s backpack on the end of the queen sized bed in the guest room before he trailed into the master bedroom, eyes on Claire as she bent in the middle, rifling through her drawers for something to fit the nine-year-old. ‘Please tell me you grabbed underwear when you were packing her bag.’ Owen gave her a sheepish smile, shoulders raised.

‘It wasn’t really the first thing on my mind.’ Truth be told he just grabbed whatever was in the first drawer he opened, not thinking much about comfort or necessity but more that the girl had a few things to bring with her. Something that was home and comfort. She had managed to shove a teddy bear into the top of the bag and a few plastic toys into her pocket. If they had more time. If Lockwood Manor wasn’t filled with dinosaurs and men with weapons he would have carefully carried everything unbroken out of that bedroom and shoved it in a truck all for that little girl.

Claire sighed, exhaustion pulling at every edge of her. It was a marvel she was still standing. It was a miracle they all were. ‘We’ll have to go to the store tomorrow. Get her some basics. Toothbrush, underwear. Do you think she’ll want books? Maybe some toys?’ She lifted her head from the drawers to give Owen a worried look, teeth between her lip. She didn’t know anything about nine-year-old girls and that realisation was suddenly setting worry in the back of her mind.

‘Let her pick.’ He told Claire quietly, watching her nod before she fished a shirt out from the depth of her sleepwear drawer.

‘It’s still a little big.’ She held up the shirt for Owen to inspect, knowing it was going to be a dress on the girl they brought home.

Owen grinned, tired but in that moment his heart was bursting with so much pride. ‘No shit, that’s mine!’ He told her, a little scandalised that she still had one of his old NAVY shirts tucked away amongst the rest of her clothes.

‘It shrunk, remember? You said I could have it.’ She played with him, Owen remembering the conversation well and the implication that she had set out to shrink it on purpose. ‘Can you go put this on Maisie’s bed for Karen?’ She asked, handing the shirt over. They definitely needed to take the girl shopping in the morning, after Claire managed to sort through the bag they packed. Owen nodded. ‘Hey?’ She called to him as he turned to leave the room. ‘I expect you to join me in the shower.’

[…]

The water barely managed to soak her skin before the wide flank of Owen’s body climbed in behind her. Claire turned, lips meeting his without a word as she pushed herself up on the tips of her toes ignoring the pain of her wound stinging from the fresh water and stretch of her muscles. She couldn’t care. He was alive under her touch, fingers pressed to his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. Wanted to check he was okay. Wanted to thank him. Wanted to talk about Blue. He didn’t want to talk. Instead, he deepened their kiss, tongues duelling for dominance as his hands slid under the curve of her ass, easily lifting Claire into his arms as he pushed her back against the cool tile. She shivered, body hot and cold as she whimpered against his lips, teeth biting at the flesh there.

He raised a hand from her ass to her breast, making Claire hiss at the squeeze of his fingers. Owen recoiled, watching her with concern. ‘I have a breastfeeding baby who hasn’t nursed in what … twelve hours?’ His grip on her ass loosened, ready to put her down now that he was aware she was in pain. She had a baby to feed, they didn’t need to be doing this. Claire’s hands cupped his cheeks, finds sliding into his hair. ‘Don’t stop.’ She begged, lips against his once again as she ground her hips against his.  

Owen found that all the times he had ever said no to Claire, never worked out for him. Instead, he kissed her back, mouth tearing from hers to nip at the top of her breast, skin full under his touch as she hissed. He grinned, cheeks wide against her skin as his hand on her ribs slid between their bodies guiding his thick erection into the warmth of her body.

Her sigh was bliss, tension in his back melting away as he listened to that sound echo around him. He was home. She shuddered against him, hands gripping his forearms as she panted a small ‘harder’ against his lips. They didn’t have long. There were two little girls elsewhere in the house waiting for them to be fed, comforted and wrestled into bed.

They had a job much bigger than themselves no matter how badly Claire wanted to be selfish. He followed her command, picking up the rock of his hips as her body moved against the wall. He didn’t stop, forehead pressed to hers, breaking away for nips and kisses until she broke, orgasm shattering across her body as she tried to bury her cry against his neck.  

It was sheer luck that they made it through a dinosaur themed hell for a second time. But there they were, home. Crowded by each other, bodies flush but happy, neither willing to be the first to let go as the water rained down on them, washing away the Indoraptor and the horrors that followed.

[…]

He bandaged her leg. Concern wrapped around his mind ad he watched it disappear behind ointment and breathable fabrics. Owen gave Claire strict instructions to say in bed, her leg elevated on a pillow as he promised to seek out something to fill her stomach and to fetch her baby to relieve the ache in her chest.

Imogene was crying in the kitchen, sitting in her high chair and howling either from lack of sleep or an empty belly Owen glad he was there to take her to the woman who could provide both things in a near instant.

It was Maisie that made him stop. Owen almost forgetting she was there as he spied the nine-year-old sitting on a barstool, damp hair sitting halfway down her back as she sat dressed in his — Claire’s — old shirt, the fabric hanging down with her legs as she shovelled spoonfuls of left overs into her mouth. He couldn’t help but put his hand on her back, rubbing a soothing circle across her shoulder blades as he dropped a quick but loving kiss to the top of her head. ‘What’ve you got?’ He asked as Maisie shoved another spoonful of spaghetti into her mouth.

Karen offered him a small quiet smile. ‘She got a bit anxious without you and Claire.’ She told him, eyes drifting to the girl too focused on her dinner as Imogene noticed he was there, her cries now directed towards him rather than Karen as she lifted her arms over her head and bounced in her seat.

He didn’t expect any less from Maisie. They were the ones who promised to keep her safe. He would have been the same if his newfound guardians left the room. His hand did another circle on her back.

‘I’m just going to take Imogene and some dinner to Claire and then I’ll be back, okay?’ He told Maisie before raising his gaze to Karen, his quasi sister-in-law already prepared with a meal for her sister. Maisie nodded, putting on a brave face as Owen stepped away and lifted the crying baby out of her highchair.

Imogene was all too happy to be handed to her mother, her cries settling to grunts before it dropped down to the small sound of her guzzling at her mother’s breast, Claire stroking the little hand that reached for her necklace with splayed fingers.

He returned to Maisie in the kitchen with Karen who was leaning on the bench and talking about an Apatosaurus from information Gray used to feed her as a boy. Maisie was rapt, listening intensely to what Karen had to say before adding her own commentary.

She seemed to fit right in. Maisie grinned at him bright and wide when Owen shuffled back into the room like she was relieved to see him again but trying not to be too eager. He took the seat beside her, accepting the food Karen offered as his stomach growled loudly.

‘Gray has plenty of books and toys from when he was your age. I’m sure he won’t mind if you have them.’ Karen offered softly as Maisie’s eyes lit up with the promise of a treasure trove filled with dinosaur merchandise.

‘Maybe we can come visit one afternoon.’ Owen offered, knowing that Karen liked to host Claire for dinner now that her boys were getting older and were home less often. ‘That way Maisie can pick a few things.’ And it saved Karen another trip into the city, that and he wouldn’t mind putting the girls in the car and taking them for a drive once Maisie was settled.

Karen nodded easily, ‘You hurt these girls and it’s all over for you’. She threatened him without raising concern from the child beside him, face turned towards her bowl again. Owen nodded. He already had that message loud and clear in his head. He didn’t Abe, Karen or Claire to warn him that this was his second and last chance to make things right. He brought Maisie into this willingly, not only because she needed somewhere to go but because he was confident he would stay. That girl wasn’t going anywhere. She was staying with them too.  

‘Hey, Maisie girl, do you want me to braid your hair for bed?’ She raised her head, sauce on her cheek as she gave him a wide eyed stare. The same look of wonder she had whilst holding Imogene quietly asking if he knew how to do that. It had been a while since he last braided anyone’s hair but Owen was sure he hadn’t lost the knack. She nodded, letting him turn her bar stool so her back was too him while Karen promised to go find a hair tie all whilst checking on her sister.

They walked Karen to her car when they were done, Maisie’s hair straightened into a long braid, her belly full and eyes tired. Karen had already said goodnight to her sister and niece, happy to leave without a fuss as Owen carried Maisie two houses down the street to where Karen had parked her car. She sat comfortably on his hip, not interested in letting go as his old t-shirt hung down to her knees and fell off her shoulder, her head tucked into his neck to protect herself from the cool night air.

‘Do you want a hot chocolate?’ He asked Maisie, knowing the girl was already tired on his hip as they saw Karen’s car pull out onto the road and disappear down the street. It was a Grace Grady magic trick, certified to keep any Grady child tucked up in their bed all night. She was freshly bathed, hair washed, clothes clean. She had eaten a full meal, leaving her tummy full and sated. It would have been enough to get her to fall asleep but Owen was sure Claire had a stash of drinking chocolate somewhere alongside mini-marshmallows. Partly it was for the girl, the other part was for himself. Owen feeling like he needed a piece of his grandmother with him. Especially now that there was a stray girl in his life depending on him.

Maisie nodded as they walked back inside, Owen locking the door behind him before he carried her back into the kitchen and sat her on the bench. He found Claire’s stash, exactly where he thought it would be as he made the warm drink quickly. ‘Okay, tell me when there’s enough.’ He told Maisie, can of mini-marshmallows in his hand. He started to sprinkle them, ready for the girls word as she sat quiet, small fluffy mounds starting to fill her mug. She giggled when it was full, Owen making the decision for her as he added another two on top before sprinkling a few in his own mug.

Hearing her giggle felt as good as the warm drink sliding down his throat. He was comforted, reassured and content. They finished their drinks at a nine-year-old pace, Owen’s body heavy and finally ready for bed. He hadn’t heard a peep from Claire, taking it that she was already asleep or was still nursing Imogene.

When her mug was empty, Owen rinsed it leaving Maisie’s beside his in the sink before he picked her up again and carried her up the hallway. The bedside light was on in the guest room, leaving it in a warm glow as he felt Maisie tense when he approached the door. He didn’t stop, instead carried her all the way to the master bedroom where Claire was sitting still awake but barely. She was rubbing Imogene’s back, hand smacking her rump with firm strokes as she kept up a steady and soothing rhythm.

‘Ready for bed?’ She asked Maisie in a quiet voice, barely a whisper as Owen put the girl down on the mattress. Maisie nodded, comfortable with Claire enough that she crawled across the bed to tuck  herself against Claire’s side not before peering over her arm to watch Imogene’s sleeping face, baby caught with her mouth open completely milk drunk and exhausted.

‘Want me to put her to bed?’ He asked, nodding towards the baby in her mother’s arms.

Claire shook her head. ‘Just another minute,’ she told him, still rocking her baby. Owen only nodded, rounding the bed as he took the space beside Maisie. He didn’t know who was the first to fall asleep, but it was inevitable for the four of them, exhausted and emotional, their bodies weak and weary finally giving in to the comforts of home.

[…]

Maisie was warm when she woke. There was a secure arm over her and a gentle hand in her hair, both of which belonged to two different people. It was Owen’s arm stretched over her, his hand reaching across to sit on Claire’s hip and Claire’s hand sitting in her hair, still stroking softly in her cheek. Neither of those things woke her, instead, Maisie’s eyes fluttered open because of the third set of hands poking at her face with chubby uncoordinated fingers. When she opened her eyes it was Imogene grinning at her, sitting up between the sleeping adults, Owen still snoring behind Maisie.

She smiled shyly at Imogene, watching her face as the baby scrunched up her nose and lent forward almost toppling over as Maisie quickly reached out to steady her. Imogene took a minute, mentally righting herself as she twisted to tap a hand against Claire’s chest, Maisie reaching for her little wrist with one hand as the other raised a finger to her lips.

‘They need to sleep, bubba.’ Maisie whispered, sure to keep her voice low as she pushed her thumb cross Imogene’s palm feeling the warm grip of the baby who gripped down on her finger.

Genie grinned, wide and toothless, her cheeks rosy. ‘Da-da, da-da, da,’ she babbled moving from cheery to low grumpy sounds as the word rolled past her lips. They were cocooned between them, flanked on either side by a sleeping adult protecting the two girls who had previously been sleeping in the middle. Maisie was sure she could wriggle out from under Owen’s arm and climb off the bed without noticing but she barely knew the house and wasn’t confident in taking the baby with her. Instead, she settled on trying to keep Imogene quiet.

‘I don’t expect you to understand this because you’re a baby, but mommy and daddy are sleeping. Yesterday was not so good.’ Maisie told her, matter of fact as Imogene continued to babble, drool falling from her lips to soak her clothes.

Behind her, Owen moved, heavy exhale brushing over the top of Maisie’s head as a grumble vibrated deep in his chest. ‘I’m up.’ He told her, sleep tumbling through the two words, eyes still closed. He caught sound of Imogene’s  _da-da_  and Maisie’s  _daddy_  and was alert in an instant. His hand squeezed Claire’s hip, grip not ready to release as Owen cracked his eyes open slowly.

Seeing that her father was awake, Genie squealed. It was excitement that brought both of her hands together, palms clapping for the first time as Owen felt his cheeks grow wide. ‘Are you clapping, Genie girl?’ He asked, voice a little higher than usual as he reached for her and rolled on his back enabling himself to lift the girl above his head before bringing her back down. It was her favourite game, the highs and lows, Owen out of reach then in reach, the little twist he did with her body in the air, baby wiggling under his hands. She squealed with laughter, ripe pearls rippling from her lungs as Owen brought her back down again to blow a raspberry on her belly. ‘Oh, I’m so proud of you, baby.’ He peppered kisses across her round cheeks before he lifted her as high as his arms would reach again.

For a minute he forgot about Lockwood Manor. For a minute it felt like this had been his life for god knows how long, lying in bed with a laughing baby, Maisie sitting next to him, giggling softly while Claire slept only a few inches away. The manor never happened. The dinosaurs, they were just a dream. Instead, he had been living like this for the last ten years. A wife, two girls and a dream home in construction. Or so he wished, getting swept up in the haze of an early morning tinted in the humour of small children. It shattered the second he heard Claire hiss, sheets behind Maisie ruffling as moved, waking up and fighting it.

He forgot she had been hurt. Caught up in his bubble of bliss, Owen forgot anything could be wrong with the world let alone the fact that Claire had a gash on her leg put there by a genetically modified beast that should never have existed in the first place. He brought Imogene back to his chest, sitting the girl on his ribs as he took one hand away from her to reach across to Claire.

‘Hey, Genie girl, show Mama what you did.’ He was trying to distract her, Maisie beside him clapping her hands lightly to prompt the baby. Owen’s fingers threaded through Claire’s hair, his eyes on her wince and the tension in her fingers. It was a marvel she had been able to sleep through it if she was waking up like this. Claire raised her arm, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. Her pressure was tight but not as much as it had been. She used him as an anchor, grip on his arm tight to pull herself into a sitting position.

Beside him, Maisie got Imogene to clap. Both girls smiling with their achievement as Imogene blew a raspberry, dribble chasing down her chin. Claire beamed, mouth agape, ‘did you teach her that, Maisie?’ She asked, giving the girl a tired smile as she stroked a hand over the top of her head. It was becoming a common action in their time together, the adults running their hands over Maisie’s head, checking she was still there, providing contact to give and receive comfort.

The girl shook her head. ‘She did it herself.’ Her smile was shy, head turning to look at Claire before she turned back to the clapping baby.

They had their moment for a little longer. Clare marvelling in the changes of her daughter, baby growing up faster than she would like to admit. Maisie’s stomach gurgled, reminding them that they couldn’t sit in bed all day playing with Imogene. There was another child there who needed to be cared for.

‘Lets go get some breakfast, hey?’ Owen announced, sitting up, Imogene held to his chest as he moved to a stand, spare hand extended to Maisie. ‘You, stay here.’ He told Claire eyes sliding from her face to look worriedly at her leg. Claire nodded, she had no intention of moving without assistance  and Owen currently had his hands full as Maisie placed her fingers against his and slid off the side of the bed. ‘We’ll be back in a minute.’

His intention had been to make breakfast and carry it, plus the girls back to Claire’s bedroom where they could eat as a group and he could keep his eyes on all three of them. Instead, with Imogene happy in her high chair, Owen left the girls be for a minute, Maisie content with toast as Genie sucked on a yoghurt pouch. They were both enthralled by the television, some bright coloured program dancing in front of their eyes as Owen tore himself away.

‘You okay?’ He wandered back into Claire’s room, finding her still lying in bed, an arm thrown over her eyes. Claire pulled her arm away, sitting herself up again as she gave a little nod. Her leg was tender but healing, the ache still present but promising to go away with some pain relief.

‘Where’s Immi?’ She asked, noticing he was childless.

‘Living room,’ He told her. ‘Want help up?’ Claire nodded softly, the action shy and almost ashamed as he crossed the room and reached down to slide his shoulder under hers, offering his body as support. He could have carried her, but he knew that wasn’t the kind of treatment Claire wanted. She was willing to walk on her own just incapable in that

She hissed against his hear, teeth gritted as the sole of her foot pressed down on the rug beneath her. Owen slid his hand around her waist, fingers digging into her hip as he helped support her. They made it to the living room slowly but surely, Claire relieved when he sat her on the couch and stepped away to ask what she wanted to eat. It was nice having him wait on her, willing to jump to her command to ensure she had everything she needed.

Maisie had been sitting on the floor, nibbling on jam covered toast when Owen brought Claire into the room. She abandoned her plate, to follow the movement of bodies, taking the empty space on the couch beside Claire once Owen disappeared into the kitchen.

‘Can I change the channel?’ Claire asked, not wanting to change their viewing without permission. She wanted to check the news, her phone somewhere in the house but not currently in Claire’s curious hand. Slipping the last piece of her toast into her mouth, Maisie nodded.

The first news program she turned to were covering a story on Lockwood, anchor sitting solum at her desk, picture of Benjamin Lockwood behind her.

‘ _The partner of John Hammond and co-curator of the original_ Jurassic Park _was found dead in hi_ s _home last night as authorities entered the property to reveal another saga in this prehistoric nightmare.’_

Beside her, Maisie was tense, little body rigid against the cushions. Claire thought of turning it off, but couldn’t bring herself to push the button. Instead, they both sat there listening as the news anchor relayed what had happened at Jurassic World four years ago as well as what information they gained concerning the last two weeks.

She flinched when they replayed footage from the island, 2015 rearing it’s head in the forefront of her memory now that security footage was rolling across the screen. Of course, as they always did for every anniversary, the broadcasters managed to track down Claire running in heels between the back access of the paddocks, flare in hand, T.Rex hot on her tracks. She felt her heart sitting in her throat as Maisie moved beside her.

‘Is that you?’ The girl asked and Claire could only nod.

‘ _In a cruel twist of cosmic balance, the dinosaurs Mills and Lockwood had moved to this facility were found deceased in the basement. The air filtration system malfunctioned leave those trapped inside to suffocate in their cells. It appeared to seem …’_

Claire stopped listening the second she felt Maisie pull away from the couch, feet carrying her down the hall and out of view silently. She wanted to follow, pushed her hands against the seat beneath her and tried to stand. Instead, her knees gave way, pain in her calf shooting up her leg in slivers. She sat down, calling for Owen who appeared in an instant.

‘Maisie,’ She told him, finger pointing towards the hall. ‘I don't know where she went.’ Just knew that she was upset. Owen nodded, lifting Imogene out of her high chair and handing her over before he went in search of the other girl.

[…]

He found Maisie in the bedroom they gave her, tucked between the corner and the side of the dresser that sat against the wall. She had pulled her knees to her chest, one arm wrapped around her legs while the other pressed her thumb behind her top front teeth. Maisie was shaking, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as Owen watched her jaw move but not make a sound.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ She jumped, turning against the wall, her back to him as if Maisie could force her body through the plaster beside her. ‘Maisie, what happened?’ He sat on the edge of the queen sized bed, soft pink sheets sitting beneath his flannelette pyjamas. He reached for her, fingers barely gracing her shoulder when the girl jumped. ‘ _Mais_  …’ Her name fell from him so softly it was as easy as an exhale.

The girl hiccoughed, sob finally breaking in her throat as she turned wide and wet eyes towards him. ‘You said they would be okay!’ She yelled, voice wobbling as it caught on the emotion in her throat. ‘You said they would be okay, and they’re not.’ The anguish she spoke with was strong for a nine-year-old, complete upset falling off her in waves as she snarled, unable to control herself. ‘You lied to me!’ She waved an arm, moving it to strike his leg but barely made an impact. ‘They didn’t ask to be born it’s not fair that they died.’

She stood, legs wobbling beneath her as she struck him again small hand hitting his knee. Her blow was near to nothing. Owen barely flinched as he watched her grief roll through the tears on her cheeks. He let her cry for a minute, her hands hitting him wherever she could reach as Owen took it. When she weakened, he slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her into his lap. She struggled, protesting out of upset as Owen only held her tighter, arms squeezing, restraining as she settled.

Owen focused on deep even breaths, leaving Maisie with no choice to copy his breathing, her own erratic heart finally settling with a little persuasion. He sat, holding her for what felt like hours until her cries turned to quiet little sounds. It wasn’t until he heard someone knocking on Claire’s door that he tried to pull away from her. Maisie’s fist curled in his shirt, body tensing like her weight alone would be able to ground him.

‘Do you want some time alone?’ He asked her quietly, hand rubbing her back. ‘Or do you want to come back out to the living room?’ She squeaked a single answer, still clinging to him as Owen stood. He carried her back to the living room, depositing her on the cushions next to Claire where Imogene gurgled at her arrival.  

‘Can you get my phone?’ Claire asked, calling to him with a hand pointed towards the kitchen bench just as he was passing it. Owen spotted the device, flingers sliding around the material of it before he continued for the door, curious as to who was still knocking.

Part of him wanted to ignore it, mindful that it could be the press seeking out Claire for a segment on their programs that evening regarding DPG, her past experience and their knew found knowledge about Lockwood. There was only a single figure standing at the door, or so Owen could see past the frosted glass. He knew who it was before he opened it, recognising broad shoulders of Claire’s father.

‘Owen.’ Abe Dearing gave him a short nod, looking the man up and down like it was disappointing to spot him still in his pyjamas at 8:30am on a Wednesday morning. ‘Where’s Claire?’ He could see the wild panic in the older man’s eye enough to know that Owen’s job here was only to point in the direction of Claire. No interruptions, no arguments, just giving the other man what he wanted quietly and without a fight.

He followed Abe after shutting and locking the door again, feet quiet on the floorboards as he listened to the voices already ahead of him. ‘You must be Maisie.’ He had to have spoken with Karen. Hell, the whole reason Abe was in town was because he was visiting his daughters. In fact, Owen was surprised when they returned last night that it was Karen in the house alone unaccompanied by her father who would have been tearing the walls down in worry. The erratic look still plastered on his face while he knelt beside Claire’s hip told Owen that Abe got in the car and came over here the second he head. ‘I’m Claire’s daddy.’ He gave the girl a soft smile, bristles of his beard rising as Genie squeaked, leaning forward with eager hands that tried to grab. ‘Did Claire get hurt yesterday?’ He asked, despite the fact that they could all see the bandage on her leg, Abe half peering around her side to get the girl to look at him. Maisie nodded shyly, eyes darting to Owen as he lowered himself to the arm of the couch, quietly watching the interaction.

Claire sighed, ‘Dad, I’m fine’. He ignored her.

‘Did you see what happened?’ Maisie shook her head after she shuffled across the couch to lean against Owen. He didn’t know if she simply wanted her comfort from him or if Abe Dearing made her nervous.

‘Owen had to carry her.’ She gave him those words quietly, cautious written across her face as he paused between each admission. Abe turned a smirk towards his daughter, the exact information he wanted to know to use against her.

‘You need to go to the hospital.’ He told her, straight up, no nonsense. Claire shook her head. Owen hadn’t even tried to have this conversation with her yet. It was too early in the morning and they had barely gotten any sleep. He was planning to put it off for another day when surely the pain was too much and there would be clear evidence her wound was infected. Claire Dearing hated hospitals. ‘Don’t be stupid.’ Owen didn’t miss the way she flinched. ‘If this is bad you could lose your leg. You don’t want to be following your baby around with a prosthetic, do you?’

Claire steeled, Owen catching the look slide down her face as she stared back at her father. Owen wrapped an arm around Maisie’s shoulders, half wondering if he should send the girl out of the room.

‘It wouldn’t be so bad.’ She told him stubbornly.

Abe groaned, ‘Now you’re just being painful for the hell of it. This really needs to get checked out, Claire-Bear.’ She shook her head again, no use of her nickname would get her to change her tune. Her father had been peeling back the bandages slowly, Claire hostage under his attendance as it finally moved from cream coloured to blood stained a layer in. Abe slammed his hand down on the coffee table, ‘For fucks sake, Claire.’ The words fell, Owen trying not to react as Maisie flinched against him and Imogene startled on her mother’s lap. He watched, waiting for round cheeks to moisten, tears starting to fall. The baby held steady. ‘Your mama didn’t die for you to be so reckless.’ Even Owen felt that. He stood, reaching out to take Imogene out of Claire’s arms as he settled the baby on his hip and reached his spare arm out for Maisie, hoisting her on the other.

He took them down the hall silently, Imogene fussing a little until Maisie put a hand on her back. He sat the baby on the floor in her nursery, asking Maisie to go fetch a change of clothes while Owen found something for Genie. ‘That boy back their loves you and you’re sitting here willing to risk it all!’ He heard Abraham raise his voice, sound traveling up the hall as Maisie hurried back into the nursery with a change of clothes. They were dressed in under ten minutes, Owen ready to take the girls for a walk so Claire and Abe could argue over this hospital visit to their hearts content.

‘Put her in the car.’ Abe called out as Owen tried to wordlessly slip by them, Genie on his hip and Maisie holding his hand. He stopped, looking over at father and daughter as he raised a brow. Claire wasn’t looking at him, instead was trying to hold her trembling chin up as she stared out the window. ‘You’re taking Claire to the hospital. I’ll watch the girls.’ Owen looked to Maisie, nine-year-old squeezing his hand with a death grip. He couldn’t let her go but at the same time he needed to prove to Abe he would stand by Claire no matter what. It was only going to be an hour or two tops. He’d be back before she knew it.

It wasn’t easy handing his daughter to someone else, Abe easily taking Imogene out of Owen’s arms as Maisie’s grip slowly fell from his. ‘We’ll be back before you know it.’ It was reassurance for all of them; Maisie, Imogene, Claire, Abe and Owen himself.

Claire was quiet when he scooped her up, one hand under her knees while the other braced her back. She didn’t make a peep until they got outside where Claire startled to struggle in his grip. ‘Put me down.’ She growled, angry and caged. ‘Owen, put me down.’ Her second announcement was a plea, voice softer, ready to bargain. ‘You’re hurting me.’ She played for her third move, starting to cry as Owen felt his chest crack in half. He didn’t let go of her, even though he desperately wanted to but Owen knew as much as Claire did that he was barely holding her at all. ‘Please, Owen.’ She cried when he finally put her in the car, taking a step back to assess her.

He was trying to ignore her. She needed to go to the hospital. It wasn’t going to hurt her. But, she was crying and that for Owen was the worst possible thing in the world.

‘Take me back to my baby.’ She begged but it was proof enough that he needed to do what he was doing. Claire couldn’t move on her own free will and as much as she would hate him for this she would also hopefully thank him.

Her hand found his once he climbed into the drivers seat of her father’s car, clutching onto him for dear life as her nails dug into his skin. He was her comfort, her support, her reassurance that things would be alright. Owen watched her, Claire staring straight ahead as tears ran down her cheeks. It worried him to see her so upset, whether their was a battle waging in her head or if her father’s words had gotten to her.

‘I don’t want people to know I was involved … again.’ He understood immediately. Claire didn’t want to lose face. She lost her job last time, she didn’t want to lose credibility in what she had set up with the DPG over the last four years. Claire wasn’t strong enough to start again for the third time.

Owen raised her hand to his lips, kissing the skin there sweetly as he turned the ignition on. ‘It’ll be okay.’ Already, he had it in his head that he would threaten any doctor or nurse who dared think about going to the press with this information. She needed stitches and antibiotics no one needed to carry on like it was a bigger deal beyond that. He would protect her. At all stops.

She shook her head. ‘It shouldn’t be.’ Her sigh was heavy and wet. ‘Why do I keep doing this, Owen? Keep going back to the danger? Risking not only my life but yours too. I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother and all I’ve done in the last two weeks has challenged the universe to show Imogene the same life.’ Her hand squeezed down, harder than he had experienced before as new tears fell.

‘It’s over.’ He told her with a squeeze of her hand. ‘It’s over.’ He promised. Never was he letting this happen again.

Claire sniffled. ‘Dad said he took one look at me and those two little girls and just could see Mom all over again.’ She stuttered, words halting as Owen recognised the image her father had seen. He saw his daughter, a baby in her lap, a young girl by her hip and thought of his sick wife. Saw so much of her in Claire that he thought, even with a deep gash, that the same thing was happening all over again and those girls would be left with nothing but a man full of mistakes.

It wasn’t going to happen but Owen saw the fear etched in lines across her face, heard it in her words. She didn’t want to leave her daughter to the same fate she had grown up with. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

[…]

Claire slept most of the way home. Her doctor had given her a strong dose of painkillers to keep her comfortable and it had done the trick in knocking her out. Owen hated seeing her like that, weak, incapable of holding her own head up while her grip on his hand loosened. She never let go of him. No matter what, clung to his hand tightly while they stitched her legs back together, promising that it could heal without any issues.

She was going to be left with a nasty scar.

She came too in the car before he reached her home. ‘You didn’t fight for me.’ Claire mumbled, fingers twitching under his. ‘When you left. You didn’t fight.’

Owen tore his eyes off the road to look at her, Claire heavy lidded beside him, head rolled in his direction. ‘Claire, all we did was fight.’

‘But you never fought to stay.’ That hit him in the gut, making his stomach roll with guilt. She wasn’t wrong. He left. They fought but he never  _tried_ to stay with her and when she told him that she was pregnant he didn’t take longer than a minute to consider the possibility of their lives co-aligning once again. He was weak and tired, he just wanted to give up take the easy route rather than try.

‘Listen to me,’ He stopped her. Hand squeezing hers. ‘I’m fighting to stay now.’

Claire shook her head. ‘Because of Imogene.’ Her words were blurry, slightly slurred. Regardless, she was confident the only reason he was trying to stick around was because of their little girl. Claire couldn’t blame him. She had tried to use their daughter to bring him back before. He had finally fallen for it.

Owen grunted, his head tearing from the road once again. ‘She just reminded me that I should have stayed, should have fought two years ago.’ He felt like an idiot leaving her. Knew it was a low point as it was happening. He wan’t going to make that mistake again. ‘Hey, we’ve got Imogene to raise … and Maisie too. We’re keeping her, yeah?’

Her nod was subtle, barely there against the headrest of her chair, eyes closing once again as Owen grinned. ‘I’m not letting either of you go.’ She told him quietly as he raised her hand to his lips, every part of his heart aching in devotion to her.  

‘That’s my girl.’ He grinned, kissing the back of her hand again. He was itching to get her home, tuck her into bed and never leave the comfort of those four walls unless they absolutely had to.

There was a part of him that wanted to argue she never fought for him either. That they kept catching themselves in this cycle of not wanting to overstep. There was no use arguing, not when she was so lucid. He had already promised himself that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what. He didn’t need to bring up her side of things.

She was out again when he pulled up to the house. Owen carried her inside, catching the worried look on Maisie’s face as she peered over the couch when he entered. She followed him, instantly, Owen nodding at Abe as he promised Claire was okay.

He tucked her into bed, thick blankets keeping her warm as Maisie hovered behind his hip, inspecting on her own.

‘Can I stay in here?’ Maisie asked him quietly and for the first time Owen realised the bags under her eyes and how tired he himself had felt. They barely slept last night before the girls woke and encouraged them all out of bed. Owen gave her an easy nod and a soft smile as he watched her climb up onto the bed and curl up next to Claire. He flattened a hand over brown hair and pulled a blanket off the end of the bed to cover her legs before he left the room in search of his baby and Abe.

They were mid farewell, Claire’s father and her wayward partner when a realisation crossed his thoughts. ‘Can you stay a little longer?’ He asked Abe, Imogene cooing on his hip. ‘We were supposed to go to the store. Maisie needs some essentials.’ He didn’t want to leave Claire home alone and there was certainly no way she was coming with him.

Abe shook his head. ‘I’ll go get them. Do you have a list?’ Owen shook his head, turning back towards the heart of the house in a promise to write up a list of what he could remember without disturbing Claire. Mostly, it was just underwear. Her own toothbrush. Pyjamas and another change of clothes. ‘You keep an eye on your girls.’ Abe told him with a stern nod and a knowing look. All Owen wanted to do was keep an eye on his girls, confirming to himself over and over that they were okay, they were home and they were whole.

When Abe left, list in hand and a promise to be back in half an hour Owen only had one thing on his mind. He carried Genie back to Claire’s room where Maisie had already drifted into a half sleep curled tight against Claire’s side. He saw with the baby on empty side of the mattress, girl’s head on his chest as he bounced her, encouraging an easy sleep with the pat of his hand on her rump. Slowly, but surely, Imogene joined the others in dreamland as Owen kept a careful eye on them all ensuring they were all there, safe, comfortable and free from any internal as well as external troubles.

It felt easy being there and acting as their protector, like the task itself was the most natural thing he had ever done.

Owen had miles to go before he was fully forgiven for past misdeeds but he was happy he was back in her home and more than ready to prove that he was never leaving again. No matter his demons or hers. They would stick together like they’d always promised.r

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear what you think! 
> 
> Don't forget my inbox has always and is always open for prompts at poeticandvaguelysweet.tumblr.com


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